Death of a Simpson
by CalculatedChaos
Summary: It's been 7 years and all Bob Terwilliger wants is closure. Bart, Lisa and Maggie must struggle against this madman's plot. The rules have changed, though, and all are left scrambling when he tries a different approach to revenge. New epilogue added!
1. Prologue & Collision

***This is a work of FanFiction and is intended as such. Any claims to ownership fall to Matt Groening and the gang***

**A/N:** First off, I would like to dedicate this story to the memory of my grandmother, Ellen, who passed away about a week after I finished writing this story the first time and was one of the many reasons I fell in love with the written word.

I have decided to rewrite this story based on all the feedback I have recieved from the various sites this is posted at. Everyone who reviewed it the first time around- you haven't been forgotten so thank you so much for all the positive support! I think the story will flow a little smoother this time now that I have a clearer idea of exactly where it is headed and how I will get there. That means additional scenes and details have been included that I did not have the time or ability to write at the time of the original posting. It will also take a little more time for me to put the whole story up as it just wouldn't do to give you the entire thing upfront, now, would it?

o_o'...

Anyway; please read and review this first chapter which is divided into two sections; (the only one to be done like this), the Prologue and Collision...

**

* * *

**

**Death of a Simpson**

**Prologue**

'Sideshow' Bob Terwilliger was perfectly aware that he'd lost his mind. In fact, that was one of the few things in his life he could actually accept. Seven years was a long time to spend constantly in fear of capture, after all. It brought a wane grimace to Bob's face every time he thought back to his days as a sidekick to that idiotic, self-absorbed clown. The humiliating things he'd been forced to suffer would forever haunt him but, he admitted in his darkest hours, it was the interference of a ten-year-old child that brought him to this meager existance.

He smiled as he let his mind play with the innumerable ways he would make the boy pay. Why did that brat squeal? Why had he chosen to unmask his plot on national television? These questions and countless others plagued Bob's weary mind and paved the way to this madness he was currently enthralled to.

But these were mere distractions and time would see to it that vengence was struck upon. No... it was the clown, above all else, that filthy, disgusting clown he couldn't stand, couldn't forget.

"Bob!" rasped a voice from the empty passenger seat of his stolen Oldsmobile. He ignored it and instead focused on the large brick building in front of him. The early morning dew, mixed with the rain from the storm that passed over the night before, lent an ironically angelic glow to the grass stretched out in front of it. As he watched, hundreds of students loitered outside of the high school that was to become their prison for the next nine months.

'They want to taste that last hint of freedom that lingers in the air.' Bob sighed dramatically at the realization and found he could respect that, if nothing else, about them. The scent of rebellion and post-rain purity helped to clear his head.

"Hey! Sideshow Bob! Ya yutz! What're you waiting for? We gonna do this thing, or not?" the voice persisted.

With a groan, Bob turned his head to face the personification of all his demons. He detested everything about this man. The splotchy, blue-white makeup was cracked and peeling in places, which only served to accent the depraved look in Krusty the Clown's eyes as he lit yet another of his endless supply of cigarettes.

"Please, Krusty... will you just SHUT UP?! I'm thinking!"

The dirty old clown hacked and coughed up a wad of brownish spittle, shifting slightly to expel it out the window.

"Well I don't see the problem, kid," he smirked and took another long drag.

Bob sighed again, it was going to be a very long day. This 'clown' had single-handedly worn him down over the last few years. True, he was Bob's only companion in an otherwise unforgiving world, but how cruel were the fates to thrust this burden onto him _on top_ of everything else? These days he barely had the strength left to argue with him, much less win. But that didn't mean he wouldn't at least try.

"It's not that easy," he snorted. "I can't just walk in there. Being a _wanted _criminal does have it's limitations you idiot."

"Ya know what your _real_ problem is, Sideshow?"

Bob growled, he really loathed that title. Krusty ignored him and continued.

"You're doing it all wrong! You call yourself an evil genius? Use your head for once then and think! What's this kid got that you ain't?" he emphasized the question by waving his foul-smelling cigarette in Bob's face. "Eh? Why does he always, always, _always_ win?"

Now, really! I fail to see what that..." Bob's temper disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced. Why _did_ he always lose? Surely the boy wasn't smarter than him? Impossible, from what he'd observed. It couldn't be luck, either. Not that many times. He thought back to all of his encounters with the boy and finally noticed something he'd overlooked for all these years. A common thread he could trace down through each defeat all the way back to the first. How could he have been so blind? It was so obvious now.

"Mmm... now that you mention it..." he mused outloud.

"There ya go. See? No problems, since now you know what needs to happen. Now can we get on with things, _please_? My back is killing me today." Krusty hacked again and snuffed the cigarette out on the tip of his tongue.

From the rear seats came a rustling sound that caused Bob to start.

"Yeah, man! You wanna kill me? You gotta do it right! Show 'im Krusty!" A small, spiky, blond-haired head popped up between the seats and Bob's eyes widened. "Oh baby! This is gonna be sweet!"

'This has never happened before.' Bob's rational side squeaked, then he smiled in spite of himself at the boy's enthusiasm.

The clown grunted and groaned as he twisted, a knife appearing in his tar-stained glove.

"Sure thing, kid. Just hold still so he can see!"

In a blur of motion, the knife flew from the clown's hand and sunk itself, hilt-deep, into the boy's throat. Bob watched with morbid fascination as the youngster thrashed and kicked, peppering the seats and windows with violently crimsom streaks. Finally he stopped, laying face down and very still.

"That's how ya do it. Nice, quick and easy. Puts on quite a display, if you're into that sorta thing. Now stop stalling and let's get this show on the road!" Krusty reached down, rolled the corpse halfway over and yanked the spattered knife from it's victim.

Off in the distance the bell rang, signaling the start of the first day of school. Bob's attention was drawn in the other direction suddenly as a young girl ran past, obviously late. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but he couldn't immediately place the face. Abruptly, the clown pointed at the girl and started laughing riotously.

"Bob, you are one lucky son of a bitch!"

His mind clicked into gear and he recognised the girl for who she was. He couldn't hold back any longer and Bob erupted into a bout of insane laughter, fully appreciating the twist this new development had dumped conveniently into his lap.

"Oh this is too perfect! Prepare yourself Bart Simpson!" Bob hissed as his eyes narrowed into a predatory glare. "For today, you lose _everything_ you hold dear!"

* * *

**Chapter One: Collision**

12 hours earlier...

It would never be said that Bart Simpson was much of a planner. The bigger picture was secondary to living in the moment and to hell with the consequences! At sixteen years of age, Bart hated to admit that he could already see his father's influences on his personality. Every time that thought crossed his mind an involuntary shiver ran up his spine. He would be nothing like his father if he had anything to say about it. He was just... Bart. Deal with it.

To be fair, it wasn't greed or maliciousness that filled his heart as he stared blankly at the television while sitting next to his father, Homer. It was simple jealousy. Earlier that day his sister, Lisa, had recieved a letter from their school. 'During summer break, even!' he fumed privately. It informed her that, due to her 'stunning academic performance' and 'stellar application essay', she would be eligible for what they called the A.L.P. or Accelerated Learning Program.

'But she's smart enough already!' Bart had wanted to scream at the entire family while she'd boasted at dinner earlier. She spent all of her free time either at the library or figuring out complicated mathematical equations that made his head spin just looking at them. What kind of person does that? Hell, even _Einstein_ sucked at math while he was still in school! How was that any fun when she could be out having the time of her life at the parties she never tried to get invited to? He huffed and glanced at Homer, who yawned and grabbed the remote to switch the channel as another commercial interrupted 'Survivor: Are you suckers still watching this?!'

It quickly blurted 'Buy Duff!' before he could do so.

"Grab me another Duff, boy." Homer broke from his stupor when Bart got up.

"Get it yourself, Homeboy. You know Mom's rule: 'You want it bad enough, you have to get up.'" He grinned at his terrible impression and at Homer's anguished moan. As he walked away the bald man lamented for at least the hundreth time.

"Aww... why must everything be so hard? When are they gonna invent robots for this sorta thing? Marge?! Rosie? Anybody...?"

Bart lost himself in his desire to take Lisa down a peg or two. It wasn't bad enough she succeeded at whatever she tried and had consistently beaten him at everything not socially related. No, she also had to rub his face in it. Not directly, of course. But he could take a hint when she dropped stinging comments about graduating before he ever did. That hurt more than he'd bothered to admit, even to himself. He couldn't let that happen, he'd never live it down.

His thoughts turned to one of the few things he still had on his overachieving sister. Something he frequently used as leverage in their long-running rivalry, which was; no matter how well she did, Bart was still two years her senior and no amount of studying would change that. Today, with the arrival of that letter, the rules had changed and aparantly he was dead wrong. He gritted his teeth while remembering the smug smirk he could swear he saw cross her face as she read the letter to everyone.

But Bart wasn't licked yet. Oh no, not while he still had his best edge on Lisa. 'Yes', he thought, 'I still know her weakness.' Bart looked up to the second floor of the house from the base of the stairs and cackled with childish glee.

*******

Lisa scrambled through her room for what seemed the millionth time that day, checking and rechecking her school supplies. In just a few short hours her entire future had changed! Suddenly she was faced with the possibility, no, the opportunity to advance much faster into the adult world. She was only thirteen, but that didn't stop people graduating from high school or even college early before. Look at Doogie Howser- wait, bad example. But there were plenty of others and she was sure they all had the last minute jitters before starting down their roads to success. This was normal, she kept telling herself.

On the bed in the middle of the room sat her eight-year-old sister, Maggie, who maintained a cheerful, if silent, presence that Lisa found reassuring. Next to her were scattered a few miscellaneous items left over from when her mother, Marge, brought up all the school supplies they'd spent hours at the department stores purchasing the week before. She paused momentarily and picked up her new prized possesion. A TI-92 series graphing calculator which she begged for the entire shopping trip. She felt slightly less guilty for making Marge pay over $200 for it now that she had a way to justify spending that much money. One of the classes her new program was reputed to offer was an advanced, college level Calculus course.

Lisa ran her index finger over the hardened plastic casing and reluctantly placed the expensive device into one of the easily accessible front pockets of her backpack. She gathered the rest of what lay on her bed and dumped them in the corner along with the backpack; the last of the packing could wait. With a deep purr of satisfaction she turned, smiled at Maggie, and took inventory of her room. It was unnecessarily tidy to the point of obsessiveness, a testament to Lisa's stir-crazy mood regarding school over the last few weeks. Her bed was made and perfectly squared with the wall, the drapes straightened and ironed with help from her mother the other day, her desk was cleared of mostly everything but her diary and lamp. Even the mirror that stood above it was polished and reflected exactly what she was proud of. On the wall between the door and the desk, near the foot of her bed was a crude set of shelves she and her father had set up years ago for all her awards and trophies. Each one gleamed with the telltale shine of success and effort, even the second place ones.

"Everything's gotta be perfect," she mumbled, more to herself than anyone in particular as she adjusted the position of one of the awards.

"Oh, it'll be more than perfect," Bart's sarcastic reply echoed from the hallway outside her open door. Lisa grimaced. She secretly dreaded her brother's reaction to her 'happy' news.

"What do you mean?" Maggie asked as Bart came into view at the doorway.

"Nothing. It's nothing."

Lisa took another deep breath, this time to help vent the pent up anxiety, and turned to face her intruding brother. 'Bart must feel like milking this' she reasoned.

"Out with it, Bart. I'm not in the mood for games."

"What? Can't a guy just be happy about his _kid_ sister's success? Shouldn't we all be content to bask in your shining radiance, Queen Lisa?" His exaggerated motions and tone clearly suggested the opposite to be true, however.

"I don't have time for this. Grow up, Bart. Can't you just let this one go?"

He smirked devilishly.

"What do your friend's think?" Bart said, suddenly switching tactics. "You... have told them, right? At least tell me you ran up here and called Allison right after."

That hurt. Allison had been excluded from consideration for the program several weeks ago because she had missed so much school the year before. Her father's job recently allowed for travel all over the world and he'd opted to bring his daughter along for what he'd described as 'the biggest cultural events in her life'. Lisa remembered comforting her friend the day Allison realized she was only four days shy of meeting the expected attendance requirements and, although she wasn't technically in trouble because the absences had been approved by Principal Dondelinger, Allison couldn't be made an exception because then the school would have to 'start letting all sorts of things slide'. Or at least, that was how the secretary of the school had explained it to them when they'd tracked down her home phone number. Bart was out of line, and he knew it.

"No, I haven't. Why would you even bring that up?" she growled back.

"Well, I just wanted to know. Have you considered the possibility that after school starts you aren't going to have any friends?" Bart watched her carefully and could see she hadn't liked that at all.

"That's ridiculous! Of course I will. I've known Janey since the first grade. Alex is still a good friend and Allison is a bigger person than that!" she stuck her tongue out at him.

"But you won't have any classes with them. Your stupid 'Alf' classes are seperate," he let the bomb drop.

It was true, Lisa realized. She was so worked up about the good side of advancing faster that she hadn't considered the downsides. They might understand, but Lisa was realistic. This would _definately_ affect their relationships. Hours of watching trashy primetime dramas with her family had taught her that much, at least.

"Stop it, you guys!" Maggie shouted, standing up on the bed. She was visibly upset from the subtle power struggle, but Bart, having smelt blood, continued.

"How good of friend's can you be? Look at this place! No pictures? No memories of happy times? None? Just a few trophies of how 'awesome' you are? C'mon Lis, this room is about as welcoming as a hospital room! You really need to get a life." He took a breath and continued mockingly, "You might not understand this now, but there's a difference between people who don't know you and people who don't give a damn. That's called High School. Enjoy."

He looked at Lisa and saw the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes as she struggled to keep together what little semblance of calm she had left. Bart recognised that maybe, just maybe he'd gone too far.

With no hesitation he about-faced and made his way downstairs to the front door, purposely slamming it behind him as he headed out into the approaching summer dusk.

*******

Moments later Lisa and Maggie heard the front door open and close quickly. Maggie looked up at her sister and saw that Lisa was standing very still.

"Lisa?" she probed gently, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Sorry, Maggie. Could I have some time... by myself?" Lisa's shoulders gently bobbed with silent sobs. Her voice portrayed all of her recent hair-trigger mood swings as openly as anything could.

She'd always looked up to her older sister as a role model, an example of how to balance her mischief with good studies and habits. But now, looking at her sister's fragile emotional state, Maggie was led to wonder why Lisa didn't do the obvious thing and just make some more friends.

That was one _big _difference between Lisa and herself that she couldn't figure out how to bridge. Maggie had always made friends easily. It wasn't that hard, was it? Lisa was smart and pretty, so why didn't she help herself?

Sometimes the simplest answers are the hardest to find and Maggie simply didn't understand where to find the solution to this one. This was something only her sister could do for herself, she realized.

"Okay, Lisa," she answered, finally. Maggie hopped down from the bed and walked to the door, still deep in her private thoughts.

With regret in her eyes, Maggie slowly closed the door on one of the few people in her life that she still respected, accepting that her way was not always best for others.

* * *

**A/N**: As stated back at the top, please take a few moments and leave me a comment on how you think the story is progressing. If you read the original, let me know if you think this is any better and what might still need some fixing. Please avoid flames, they make baby Jesus cry. Just like lies.


	2. Sanctuaries

**A/N: **Just a quick update for those people who read the first chapter, it looked like quite a few were giving it a go and the process of rewriting is going surprisingly smoothly now that everything is in place. The updates should come fairly regularly (I've already nearly finished three and might have time to start working on four tommorow).

Minor update here: This chapter was mainly inspired by a piece of fanart done by Marco (or SimpReal) of Simpsons Realities (. c o m) and LTS. It is titled "Sanctuary" (thus the chapter name) that he did several years ago. I tried to fit as many details from this drawing into the narrative as I could, see if you can notice them all. If you want to see it check out, here is a link to where it is officially posted:

h t t p : / / r e a l i t i e s . s i m p w o r k s . c o m / i m a g e / 4 0 5

* * *

**Chapter Two: Sanctuaries**

Lisa sat on her bed, blinking away the burning shame of letting her brother get the best of her while a solid lump formed in her throat around the base of her neck. She choked it back with an inaudible effort. Bart's words had hit hard. As she sat ruminating, slowly Lisa came to realize that she wasn't upset with Bart. (Well, maybe a little.) She was angry at herself for being unable to control herself better lately. This outburst was not the first she had fallen prone to, but up till now she could hide it behind a calm facade until she was alone. It also frustrated her immensely that she couldn't refute Bart's claims. Mostly because, deep down, she knew he was right.

Outside, the evening sky darkened prematurely as thick roiling cloouds quickly massed for what was bound to be an epic storm. Deep inside herself, Lisa couldn't be bothered enough to get up and close her open window. Good, she thought darkly, I could use a nice cleansing rain.

Instead, she scanned her room with new eyes and saw just how empty it really was. It was true, she noted, there _was_ nothing to reflect her personal life except for the meticulously maintained medals and trophies she'd chosen to pursue rather than a real, active social life. Lisa had her reasons, everyone did. People bored her, she would argue sometimes. People could fail was another favorite, but there was nothing she could do about that. These awards, though, represented the one thing she had come to rely upon over the years, herself. Lisa prided herself on her accomplishments because no one could take them away from her. Even if a friend were to do something terrible and hurt her, even accidentally, Lisa always had herself to fall back on. That might sound selfish but, realistically, everyone did it.

Now, however, the hollowness of those small victories assaulted her and she was forced to balefully tear her eyes from them before their mocking gleam became too much. These awards would never be able to say anything to her but 'Good job!' or 'Congratulations, you were the best!'. Not exactly what she had in mind for a comforting friend. When the chips were down, there really was no one she could turn to for help except her family and maybe Allison. And even she would be taken away after she found out that Lisa was going to advance ahead of her starting Freshman year. All she really wanted was true companionship, a bond with another person that she could reliably fall back on. Okay, her mother and father were there for her, but she desperately sought acceptance from someone her own age. Bart didn't count, he only seemed to exacerbate the problem recently. Alex and Janey might fit the bill, but they too had proven themselves to be human over the years. A cute boy or fancy accessory would have them disappearing before you could even turn around to tell them 'stop'.

'Allison.' Her best friend's name rang through her head again. She remembered when they met back in the second grade and she was so upset with the girl for showing her up at every turn. Eventually she sunk to the lowest common denominator and asked Bart for help and he set it up so they could sabotage the diorama competition, but in the end she wasn't able to go through with it and ruined her chance to make a fool out of Allison. She remembered that even had she not interfered, her classmate Ralph Wiggum would have won because of their principal's overly fond disposition for original Star Wars figurines. After the competition she and Allison had spoken, had a good laugh over the circumstances and Lisa was forgiven for her actions. They'd walked home with an enthusiastic Ralph who managed to break one of his prize-winning figures. It was the teamwork between Allison and her that allowed them to fix Chewbacca for poor Ralph and that was when they came to the realization that they really made a good team. It had been a blast since then, but over the years Allison's personality slowly changed and they had been drifting apart for quite a while. Lisa was afraid she would lose her friend to the same materialistic obsessions as she often did with Alex and Janey.

She looked up from her knees for a moment and tried to find at least one picture of her with her friends that was not also attached to a newspaper clipping, but failed. Suddenly, sitting alone in her room, even surrounded by the familiar settings of her home and knowing that the other four members of her family were only a few moments away, Lisa was set upon by a vast sense of isolation. It seemed to her as if she was destined to be stuck in this rut forever.

Lisa's eyes finally settled on the one thing in her room that radiated any kind of warmth, her desk. For years she'd retreated there to lick her wounds after a fight or pour her soul out into her diary where she could hide it from all the eyes in the world. She even practiced her saxophone in front of the mirror that sat on top of it.

Sluggishly she got up and wandered over to the desk, her final sanctuary. In the peripheral reaches of her mind Lisa dimly registered the gathering strength of the storm outside, making the air positively crackle with it's pre-rain excitement.

*******

Maggie watched her sister's self-inflicted torment from her lofty perch in the old tree house above the back yard. The longer she sat, the less she found she sympathized with Lisa. Her overridding thought being, 'C'mon Lisa, you're stronger than this!' Presently, however, that was being muted as she considered if, in fact, Lisa _was_.

Looking up at the angry blackish-yellow sky, Maggie sighed and found that she could watch no longer. It was one thing to be fed up with her sister's behaviour, but another to be spying on her while she did it. She reached into a pocket in her well-worn jeans to extract a faded yellow note as the heavens opened before her and rain began to fall in earnest. The pleasantly looping style that the words were written in had always intrigued her, as they were not at all like her sister's handwriting.

She stood for a long time reading the four simple words over and over.

'You are Lisa Simpson.'

Maggie had secreted it from her sister's room months ago after discovering it in the back of Lisa's desk during a bout of curiosity. The very desk she could now see Lisa hunched over, tears pouring down her face in a macabre reflection of the outside world.

Those words were a blazing omen of the distance she could now see seperated her from Lisa. The answer to her confusion was suddenly and undeniably etched into her mind as clearly as the words on the scrap of paper in her hand. Her hand shook slightly as she looked at it again and she decided she didn't need to know who it was from.

"No," Maggie admitted with a note of profound understanding. "I'm not."

A stiff wind caught her off guard at that moment of revelation and claimed the note from her weakened grip, whipping it outside to the mercy of the storm. Maggie watched it disappear, then turned and retreated into a corner of the creaking shack where she lit her old camp lantern, a hand-me-down from Bart's Jr. Camper days. It soon burned fiercely against the gathering darkness and growing strength of the storm. A slight tickle of fear entered her mind as she recalled how bad the storms around here could get in a hurry and she decided to get back inside.

"I'm sorry, Lisa." She mumbled before scrambling down the rickety wooden planks nailed to the trunk of the tree and jumping down to skip the last four as she'd watched her siblings do countless times. Her mother stood at the open doorway admonishing Maggie for the slight risk taken, all the while wearing a kind smile. She grinned back and sprinted the short distance before the door closed behind her.

*******

Lisa found little solace at the desk. Flicking on the small lamp, she frantically opened the drawers and searched them for some tiny bit of evidence she actually had friends. She realized she was losing control again and took a deep breath before sitting down to help calm herself. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted her diary laying next to her computer keyboard. After paging through it for several minutes she gave up and, in frustration, tore several pages from it and hurled them out the open window.

"Why?" she sobbed at her reflection. "Why do I have to be so alone? W- what am I doing wrong?"

Lisa took a mental inventory of all the friends she'd made and lost over the years and realized she could probably count them on both hands. It didn't take long to arrive at the one loss that hurt the most, her mentor and idol, Bleeding Gums Murphy. How she wished she could talk to him now!

'No,' Lisa chastised herself for her weakness. 'He's gone, long gone. Don't do this to yourself.'

But the fleeting memory of the only other soul on the planet she'd ever connected to did it's damage and Lisa's calm fell apart like a house of cards. Before she knew it she was crying out at the world for the terrible place she perceived it to be. Whorls of pent up anger, desperation and even a little pride contstricted around her mind and sent her spinning into a confused descent. At the last moment she caught herself, once again, and pulled back with a scream from the brink that many teenagers don't have the presence of mind to avoid.

The wind outside intensified to match her howl of anguish and the curtain over her window billowed inwards, momentarily obscuring Lisa's view of the mirror. As the curtain slowly drifted away Lisa noticed a small sheet of paper stuck to the mirror. Her reason screamed in denial of what she was looking at.

'You are Lisa Simpson.'

"No..." Lisa squeaked. She'd lost 'that' years ago. "That's... not possible..."

Slowly, Lisa reached up and touched the rain-spattered relic of her early childhood. 'It's _real_?!' Her rational side told her to run, but her instincts told her this was too important to ignore. She delicately peeled it from the mirror and clutched it in both hands, recalling for the first time in years the circumstances under which another friend she'd nearly forgotten had given her this same note.

Mr. Bergstrom, the measure to which Lisa held herself up to as an academic. He had only been a part of her life for a few fleeting days but her favorite teacher still managed to leave an indelible impression on her. Even now, years later, alone in her room and staring at the vote of confidence he had once given her, Lisa felt as though he was still right here. In her head she could see him silently encouraging her to nurture and cherish the gifts she was blessed with, not waste her efforts feeling sorry for herself and foolishly spoiling any chance she might have at happiness with others. She realized she should focus more on sharing her talents with others than pursuing selfish endeavors.

Despite how bad she felt only moments before, Lisa couldn't help but smile weakly at the insanity of her previous line of thought. She was only thirteen for crying out loud. There was _plenty_ of time for her to pull her act together and meet new people. Even if things didn't work out with her current friends there were plenty of others out there. Heck, her acquaintances from college told her that that was where all the real action was in any case. Whatever that meant.

She swallowed hard and held the faded note to her chest, letting the warm sensation bloom and spread throughout her entire body for what seemed like the first time in ages.

"Thank you." Lisa whispered, finally finding the center of peace and wellbeing she hadn't really noticed were missing until after they returned. She was ready for what life had to throw at her, she knew that now. The worries and burdens felt insignifigant next to the swelling pride and confidence in her abilities that were inspired by those four simple words.

Lisa looked into her mirror once more and, finally happy with what she saw there, wiped away the tears only to replace them with fresh ones as she fell deeper into nirvana.


	3. A Bright New Day

**A/N: **Just a quick update. This chapter is a bit shorter than all the rest, but from here out each chapter should get longer and longer. Thanks Narfy for your review! I'm happy the descriptions work for you. I still need to get caught up on your story and will be returning your reviews when I get some spare time.

Oh, and this chapter should help to whet your curiosity about Bob. ;)

* * *

**Chapter Three: A Bright New Day**

"Bart! Lisa! Maggie! Time to get up! Breakfast is ready and you don't want to be late for the first day of school, do you?" Marge, the matronly head of the household, hollered from the hallway ouside her children's bedrooms. She called out again, obviously in reply to some smart-alek reply from Bart, "That doesn't exclude you, young man!"

Lisa lay awake in bed, allowing the sun to warm and fully rouse her from a surprisingly peaceful sleep. Her first thought was of the note folded neatly under her pillow, but that was quickly replaced with a budding sense of urgency to get ready. Bart was supposed to drive her to school, but after yesterday she would more willingly believe her father's boss was handing out money all over town before she trusted Bart to fulfill that duty. No, it was better to plan accordingly.

Finally Lisa managed to get up, realized she needed to get to the bathroom quickly and darted out into the hallway. She caught a brief glimpse of Bart before he slammed the door she was looking for. 'Of course.' she groaned. Why was it that someone who had no interest in going in the first place was always so insistent on being the first one to get ready? She dismissed this contradiction and pounded on the door, shouting at Bart to hurry up. She decided to eat first and made her way downstairs to the kitchen, finding Maggie already seated opposite her rotund father.

"Good morning, honey! Are you ready for your big day?" Marge greeted her eldest daughter, having returned to her stove in order to finish making breakfast.

"Yep!" Lisa said cheerfully. This drew a suspicious glance from Maggie that Lisa didn't notice. "In fact, I probably just had the best night of the entire summer. It's finally over!"

"We're so proud of you, Lisa! Right, Homey?" Marge nudged her husband on the shoulder causing him to look up from his nearly empty plate of waffles and syrup. Mostly syrup.

"Mmpfh?" He tried through the mouthful of food he was trying mightily to swallow. A glob of syrup dribbled down his muzzled chin which he wiped clean with a finger as he succeeded in downing the chunk of waffle. Licking his finger thoughtfully, Homer tried again. "Huh? Oh, yeah," he chuckled. "Right. Of course we're proud of you, Lisa! You did better on the thingy than the other kids, right?"

"Oh, Homer!" Marge swatted the back of his head with a towel. "You know exactly what it is, stop faking. She's been talking about this all summer, remember?"

"She did? Oh, she _did_. Sorry Lisa, daddy just forgot for a moment. So when do you leave for the Alps? They better not make us pay for the equipment, I had to sell off all that stuff I got from those 'Power Sauce' jerks after they sued us for 'misrepresentation of their product'." He finger-quoted the last part which caused Lisa and Maggie to giggle.

"No, Dad. It's the A.L.P, not a mountain climbing expedition. I'm going to get some more challenging classes this year," Lisa replied with a grin as she fell into her usual seat at the table. She looked across the table at Maggie and continued, "Sorry for kicking you out last night, Maggie."

Maggie continued smiling but remained silent and Lisa couldn't help but notice the awkward reaction. When Maggie saw that her sister wasn't satisfied with the answer, she releted.

"It's okay, Lisa, really. I understand, and you seem to be fine now. You sleep alright?"

"Yes, actually. That storm sure was something, though."

"Sure was," Bart interjected as he finally arrived, looking freshly showered. "I got soaked trying to get back from Milhouse's!"

"You really shouldn't do that, Bart," Marge groaned as she slid plates in front of her children. "You'll catch your death of cold."

"I'm fine, Mom! Quit it!" Bart protested as Marge fussed over him. "No big deal."

"Mmm... alright, but don't do it again. How would it look to have you kept home on the first day of your Junior year just because you couldn't keep yourself dry?"

"Yeah... _that'd _be a real tragedy," Bart said under his breath, only loud enough so his sisters could hear it. He smirked and said louder, "Come on, Mom. Make with the syrup!"

"Oh, sorry, dear. Your father nearly finished off the last of the bottle, but you can try to hold it upside down for a few minutes and get the last of it."

"But Marge! That's the tastiest part! It's got all the extra sugar they hold out on!" Homer objected.

"For crying out loud, Homer. It's sugar-free syrup!" she replied. That was part of the agreement they'd reached over the summer after Homer was put on a diet by the family doctor, Julius Hibbert.

"Oh... go ahead boy. Just don't say I never did nuthin for ya," he said with a wink and grin.

"Gee, thanks, Homer," Bart grumbled. Lisa and Maggie kept a tight cap on their mirth as they watched their brother solemly hold the almost empty syrup bottle over his plate in palpable anticipation. Just as he finally got his reward, Maggie piped up and said:

"Wait, what about us? Lisa and I don't get any?" She looked insistently at the pantry. Marge seemed to take the hint and looked surprised for a moment as if she'd just realised she made a mistake.

"Oh, hang on! I think there's a backup in the cupboard. Just give me a few minutes and I'll microwave it for the two of you."

Bart's jaw dropped as he looked down at the meager dribble of syrup on his waffles. A few minutes later she brought the freshly warmed syrup over to the table along with her own plate and sat down with the rest of the family. After Lisa and Maggie had taken their spoils, Bart snatched the bottle and coated his waffles with almost as much as his father had.

"Don't take too long. You two better get a move on or you'll be late," Marge broke the silence and looked up at the clock. "Oh! Maggie, finish quickly, the bus will be here any minute!"

She proceeeded to coach them on speed eating and started shooing Maggie out the front door. When she returned to the kitchen she caught the look on Bart's face and saw his half-eaten plate of waffles. Going into full mom-mode she cried out, "Lets go! Move it! No buts! Go! Go! Go!"

Lisa remembered why she was so quick out of bed earlier and rushed up into the bathroom. After completing her usual hygenic rituals she returned to her room and collected her school bag. It was a mighty beast of a thing, looking more like an overstuffed beanbag than anything else, and was wholey unpractical for it's intended purpose. Lisa found she couldn't lift the bag properly, even using both arms. With a sigh she dug out a dozen or so non-essential books she thought might've come in handy, realizing she'd never make it through the day trying to lug it _all_ around.

Moments later she called out good-byes to her parents and ran out the front door, hoping against hope that Bart was still waiting for her in his ugly old dark green Buick beater.

He wasn't.

"D'oh..." Lisa grunted, not really surprised. Looking down at her watch she noticed how little time was left and panicked. Ten minutes?! The school wasn't that far but that was pushing it.

"He's gonna get it!" Lisa promised as she grudgingly started walking at a fast pace towards the school. When she passed the Kwik-E-Mart several blocks later she threw a half-hearted wave at Apu and mouthed an apology that she couldn't go in and chat with him before class. He nodded his understanding and pointed at his own wrist, gesturing wildly with his arms that she should run. The customer standing in front of him crossed their arms and waited for him to realize they were there.

The brisk morning air revitalized Lisa's appreciation of the natural world that was awakening around her. Everywhere she looked there were signs of nature struggling fiercely against man's stubborn encroachment. Instead of feeling dismay, however, Lisa chose to see this merely as nature's best attribute. 'Never give up.' she thought to herself with a smile as she became lost in the realms of thought and automatically followed the path that would take her to the high school just up the road from her old elementary. If she was lucky she might just catch Maggie as she got off the bus and maybe even say hi to her old busdriver, Otto.

Her sense of urgency returned two-fold when she heard what she thought was the school bell ringing a few blocks up.

'Oh no!' Lisa's mind raced and she started running as fast as her bulky bag would let her. Maggie would have to do without her today, she couldn't be late on the first day of high school!

She was so focused on the school up ahead that she didn't notice the car door some distance back open and slam shut. Nor did she hear the heavy footfalls closing in fast.

Lisa's first and only indication that anything was amiss, other than her tardiness, came in the form of a filthy, chloroform-soaked rag being shoved over her mouth and up her nose partially as she was roughly pulled behind a parked car.

Her world quickly collapsed into darkness.


	4. Worlds Apart

**A/N:** Yup, another update. Quickly approaching a 3 day, 12 hour each marathon of work so it will probably be sometime next week when I update again. Possibly sooner. Here's chapter four for now, though. Ever wonder which sibling Maggie took after? Judge for yourself!

* * *

**Chapter Four: Worlds Apart**

Bart stood solidly against the never-ending crush of bodies flowing down the hallway. More than a few students threw dirty looks, gestures and words as they moved around him. Not that Bart noticed, he was staring at one of the nearby classrooms. More particularly at one with a bright orange sign in it's oblong window.

It read, 'A.L.P.- For higher education, look no further!' Bart had to suppress a belly laugh at the corny greeting.

"Where is she?" he wondered out loud. "She couldn't be that upset, could she?"

Bart peeked into the A.L.P. classroom just to be sure Lisa wasn't hiding. A sinking feeling formed in the pit of his stomach, it wasn't like her to be so fast out of her classroom. He turned back sharply to see his old friend, Milhouse Van Houten, standing right behind him.

"Woah! You gotta stop doing that, Milly."

"Hey... I told you not to call me that anymore! My mom's been looking at me funny again." Milhouse looked uncomfortable with the stares he was getting from the students passing them by. "Uhh... so, what'cha doin, Bart?"

"Looking for Lisa," he answered, regretting it almost immediately as an all too familiar look came into his old friend's eyes.

"Is she in there?" Milhouse asked hopefully, though perhaps a little too loudly for Bart's comfort. He winced, well aware of Milhouse's attraction to his sister.

"Cut it out man, jeez. Seriously," Bart said irritably, his hackles raised by the uneasiness he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"What? What'd I do?" Milhouse complained before trailing off, "Just asking... sheesh..."

Overhead the intercom kicked on with a loud, static-filled hiss.

"Attention, please. Bort Simpstone please report to the main office. Eh? Excuse me, Bart Simpson, to the main office. You know where," came the voice of the kindly old lady that made the morning announcements. Bart had never bothered to learn her name. Aparantly the feeling was mutual, but it still irritated him. 'She calls me up there _how_ many times a year? Get it right!'

"Already?" Milhouse mused as he fiddled with his red, horn-rimmed, coke bottle glasses. He smirked as Bart hunched his shoulders.

"I'unno," Bart shrugged. He hadn't had time to do anything yet, it was only a few hours into the school year after all. "You don't think they're still mad about that pig in the heating duct, do you?"

Milhouse chortled but shook his head emphatically.

"I heard they blamed that on Nelson! It took three weeks to find it and he nearly got expelled. Instead they made him spend most of his summer volunteering to help clean the school. I'm gonna be careful in all the bathrooms until I figure out if he's been in there or not."

Bart smiled weakly and nodded, that uneasy feeling returned in full.

"Well, I'd better go face the music." With a shrug, he quickly broke away through the thinning crowd, hoping Milhouse hadn't thought to follow him. Even ten years of friendship wasn't worth the damage to his reputation if he was seen going everywhere with that walking faux pas. 'Damn it, Lisa!' Bart cursed his sister as the unnatural words passed through his head.

Having trodden this path often over the past two years, Bart made his way to the office in no time. As he rounded the corner he spotted an unlikely figure standing rigidly by one of the office's large, panoramic windows. The tall man's expression was even grimmer than usual.

"What the hell is _Skinner_ doing here?" Bart wondered. 'This day just keeps getting wierder and wierder.'

*******

"Have fun, little dudette!" Otto, the school bus driver, wheezed as he pulled up in front of Springfield Elementary. "Give 'em one for Otto!"

He gave Maggie a vacant grin and thumbs up. Maggie rolled her eyes and laughed at the strange man as she passed him to jump down to the pavement outside of the bus. She looked up at the school and wondered if this year would go as smoothly as her first. She'd met alot of new people and was eager to find out how their summers were since most of them went away on vacation and couldn't play with her. Instead, she'd been reduced to playing practical jokes on the Flanders brothers that lived next door. All it took was a high-powered flashlight, some glitter taken from a small jar she found in the medicine cabinet at home and a megaphone borrowed from Bart to have them screaming about 'Doomsday' and running up the road. That one stuck out in her head because she'd actually been congratulated on it by Bart after returning his megaphone.

Some students, eager to be off the bus, jostled Maggie and shook the nostalgia from her head. She looked up at the building again, this time spotting Sarah chatting with a boy she knew from class last year up near the entrance.

"Hey, Sarah!" Maggie called out, running fast to greet her best friend. "Hey, Stew. You guys have a good summer?"

Sarah looked at Maggie for a few seconds as if she didn't remember her, but when realization hit she squealed childishly and ran over to hug her tightly.

"Hey, Maggie," Stew remarked, rather coldly."Yeah, we just got back from Rhode Island last week. Not that it concerns _you_."

He turned and quickly disappeared inside, but not before flashing a menancing look back over his shoulder at the girls.

"What's his problem?" Maggie wondered out loud, intending the question to be rhetorical.

"Who?" Sarah asked, not catching her inflection.

"That boy, Stew. Why's he always such a stick in the mud?" she answered. Sarah giggled shrilly.

"I think he _likes_ you!" She took a step back, enjoying the sight of Maggie blush. A rare occurance.

"He does not! Take that back!" Maggie playfully swatted her friend on the shoulder. "C'mon, school's about to start!"

She let the worries of the previous day melt away as she fell into the joyful bliss of being around other eight-year-olds. Lisa seemed fine this morning, no need to fret about it like an old maid. Together she and Sarah rushed through the doors, nearly knocking over Willie, the groundskeeper, in the process as he tried to keep the children milling about from destroying his entire summer's worth of hard work.

"Ach! Wee'uns! You'd better not let Willie catch you messin up his halls or he'll get the _hoose_!" He soon gave up, though, and fell into a defeated posture.

"Sorry, Willie!" Maggie cried from down the hall.

Sarah got to the door of their new classroom first and casually tossed 'Rotten egg!' over her shoulder with a grin.

"Whatever!" Maggie darted around her friend and into the room before she could react.

"Hey! No fair!" Sarah giggled again as she settled into a seat adjacent to her. Looking around, Maggie saw alot of familiar faces, including that boy from outside, Stew, who seemed to be glancing in every direction but hers. Maggie then turned her attention to the front of the room, spotting her new teacher.

'Ms. Hoover', proclaimed the rectangular plaque on the desk.

"My sister had her, I think..." she whispered to Sarah, though the girl didn't appear to be listening anymore. Maggie continued to study the woman, giving up on her friend's short attention span. So _this_ was the person who was expected to impart a year's worth of knowledge on them? Maggie wasn't impressed and the thought crossed her head, 'She looks like a broken toy!'

Constantly abused over the years, Ms. Hoover sat slumped haphazardly in her seat. Dark circles under her bloodshot eyes betrayed a long-term drinking problem which was only highlighted by the large, angry blue veins that ran the length of her too-thin neck. The tips of her sharply clawed, brownish-yellow fingers were a permanent hallmark of the years of chain-smoking she'd endured. Overall the effect was distrubing to Maggie, who worried that the slightest push would send the woman over the edge of sanity.

Finally the secondary bell rang and drew Maggie from her dark observations. The noise level in the room didn't diminish until Ms. Hoover got up and put on a practiced smile. 'Not a good sign.' Maggie thought.

"Good morning, class," she said with a note of sarcasm only Maggie seemed to catch. "Let's get started, shall we? First, roll call. Who isn't here?"

A few students waved their hands enthusiastically and the whole class snickered. Ms. Hoover ignored them, focusing instead on her seating chart.

"Says twenty-three... okay, twenty three. Good enough," she muttered.

As the day got underway, Maggie began suspecting that she wasn't going to be very happy with this new teacher. Every subject blended together under her monotonic instruction. Nearly two hours later Maggie had lost interest, along with the rest of her class, in what was being taught. 'This is ridiculous! I could do it better than this!' she privately boasted.

Up front, Ms. Hoover was writing a few basic math problems on the dry-erase board that Maggie hoped sincerely were a joke. Instead, Ms. Hoover turned and fixed an uninterested gaze on the class.

"Any volunteers?" she asked and predictably nobody wanted to so she pointed absently at Maggie. "How about you?"

Maggie looked at the board and her gut instinct was to refuse. This was pointless and, having solved all the problems the moment Ms. Hoover was done writing them, Maggie was finding it extremely difficult to humor the woman. But some part of her, still upset about the night before, interfered and she heaved a deep sigh. She got up and heard a faint "Go Maggie!" from Sarah as she passed up to the front of the room. Feeling all the eyes in the room on her back, Maggie grabbed a red marker and quickly wrote out the answers.

"Very good!" Ms. Hoover's eyes focused for what seemed the first time all day and she stared down at the girl.

"You would be..." she flicked her eyes to the seating chart which was no help. No one was seated properly, though one name stood out. "Maggie Simpson? Lisa's little sister, right?"

Maggie bristled, the discontented part of her psyche latched onto that comment.

"So what if I am? I have a brother too, you know." She didn't break eye contact.

"First thing you'll need to learn in my room, young lady, is that we don't mention _him_ in this class."

"Why?" Maggie's grip on the marker tightened.

Ms. Hoover disregarded her question and swooped in for a closer look.

"Yes, I see it now. You look just like her!" Ms. Hoover's eyes glinted at the thought of her former prized pupil. "Oh, thank god you turned out like her and not the other one."

Her condescending tone dug into Maggie like nails on a chalkboard.

"So what if I answered a few stupid questions? These were easy! Even Bart wouldn't have a problem solving these. Why don't you give me a real challenge?" she said coolly, trying to quell her rising temper.

"Okay..." Ms. Hoover grabbed an eraser and wiped the board clean. "If you really are like your sister you won't have any trouble with... _this_!"

In a flash she scribbled out a few lines. The class gasped at the complexity of the question.

"Karen is twice as old as Lori. Three years from now, the sum of their ages will be 42. How old is Karen?" Ms. Hoover read out while pointing at the board.

"Easy." Maggie glared back. "Karen is 24."

"Superb. Looks like we have another genius." Ms. Hoover smiled and erased the question. Maggie held up a hand.

"Again, this time make it hard." the class 'ooh'd' and turned their attention back to Ms. Hoover.

"What? That wasn't... enough? Why don't you take your seat? There'll be plenty of time to prove yourself just like Lisa did."

Maggie stamped her foot on the ground.

"Why? Or are you afraid to actually challenge your students?"

"What do you mean?" Ms. Hoover finally broke eye contact, glancing around the room, where more and more eyes were turning to fix upon her. The students sensed something was wrong as Maggie began to lose control.

"What I mean is; why are you wasting our time like this? This is the same stuff they forced down our throats last year! I hoped this would be more interesting but I can see I was wrong."

"Your sister..." Ms. Hoover tried to regain control of the argument but only succeeded in riling Maggie further. Her panicked mind reacted instinctively, 'Uh-oh. Another independant thinker. Should I trip the alarm?'

"I'm... not... **HER**!" Maggie shouted as loud as she could, startling everyone in the classroom.

"That is enough, young lady!" Ms. Hoover took a step forward, gathering what little courage she had left. "There is no yelling in the classroom. Take your seat this instant!"

"I know why you're angry." Maggie's eyes narrowed dangerously and she, in turn, took a step towards her quickly crumbling teacher. "You hate this just as much as I do."

"What are you saying?" the shaking woman paled, fearing the answer.

"I'm saying you're a wreck, Ms. Hoover. You've failed us, you've failed the profession of teaching and, most of all, you've failed yourself. You're just a tired old drunk who's lost her passion for the job she _pretended_ to enjoy years ago." she completed her slow walk up to her teacher, aware of the nearly two dozen pairs of eyes boring into her. "I've had enough of this. I'll be back when they put a _real_ teacher in here. Don't know about you, _ma'am_, but I can't fake it as well as you can.

Leaving a scene of total shock in her wake, Maggie slammed the marker back into it's tray and stormed from the classroom.

"You can't speak to me like that you little bi... **GO TO THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE**!" Ms. Hoover, having recovered slightly, screamed after her, more out of spite than any real conviction.

Maggie paused and looked back over her shoulder with a frown.

"Funny, I think I just did," she remarked, as sweet as sugar, then continued down the deserted corridor. As for where she was headed, Maggie didn't have to be told to go to the principal's office. She'd already decided that for herself.

When her temper cooled, a twinge of regret entered Maggie's mind. 'Perhaps that was a bit much for the first day. Even Bart waited until the second week to throw a tantrum.' she reflected. But as she approached the door to Principal Skinner's office, Ms. Hoover's condescending tone and remarks echoed through her head. 'No. I'm not backing down on this!' Steeling her resolve, Maggie pushed open the door and found the stern disciplinarian sitting at his obsessively tidy desk.

As Maggie entered, Seymour Skinner hung up his phone and noticed her standing right in front of hiim.

"That was fast. Very good."

"What was fast?" Maggie was thrown not only by the remark, but its lack of context.

"There will be time for questions soon enough, I'm afraid. Gather your belongings; I need to bring you to the High School as quickly as possible. Your parents will meet us there."

"What's going on? Tell me!" Maggie slammed her hand on his desk, sending several pencils (which Skinner seemed to have great difficulty ignoring) rolling off the edge. He appeared confused for a moment before a hint of sadness cracked his usually indifferent facade.

"You don't know? Dear lord... I just told Ms. Hoover... she didn't...?" Seymour sighed, letting the thought drop off. "I'm sorry I have to be the one to tell you this, Maggie, but your sister, Lisa, never made it to school this morning. No one knows what happened."

* * *

**A/N: **Till next week. Please R/R if you've enjoyed the story so far! (and sorry if this seems too dramatic, it's going to get darker before all is said and done)


	5. Trapped

**A/N: **Good lord, what a weekend! But it was worth it, I don't have to work again until Friday and that will just be for a measly 4 hours. Thank you again for your reviews Narfy, you keep making me feel guilty for not having caught up with your own story! I guess I don't have a choice now, it has been a while since I've posted a long review of anything so I'll be taking my time when I get around to it. From what I'd seen in those first 3 or 4 chapters it will be worth the wait.

You got just about all of it right with Maggie, by the way. She does sport traits from both siblings but it won't take long for her to break from that mold.

To my readers: If you've enjoyed the story for it's drama and dark atmosphere so far; allow me to present Chapter Five, picking up with Lisa's storyline...

* * *

**Chapter Five: Trapped**

The first thing Lisa became aware of as she struggled into consciousness was how dark everything seemed. It was a thick, wholly consuming darkness that immediately sent her into a blind panic. 'Oh god! Where am I?' Her rationality kicked in at that moment and she tried to focus on something, anything else. 'The ground.' Lisa decided and shifted slightly. The movement afforded her marginally more comfort but more importantly, it indicated the second and third things about her surroundings. The floor felt grainy against her hands, like unfinished wood, and she could feel thick ropes binding her arms and legs tightly. She also realized she had a blindfold wrapped securely over her eyes, though that did little to calm her.

Lisa's mind cleared as time passed slowly, bringing with it foggy memories of the morning. Bart left without her... she had to walk to school... okay, but then... nothing. Trying as hard as she could, Lisa couldn't recollect how she came to be here. 'Wherever _that _is.'

"Hello?" she called out, trying to gauge where in the room she was.

From the odd way the sound echoed Lisa could tell she was in a fairly large chamber. That didn't help much and, wherever she was, there didn't seem to be any windows to allow warmth or fresh air inside. Lisa shivered and tried to move again, to no avail. She would never get very far tied up like this, so instead Lisa focused on gathering more information about her surroundings.

'There's no noise!' The revelation jolted through her mind. In point of fact, the only thing she'd heard up to now were her own attempts at sound and the steadily increasing speed of her breathing. No birds, no cars, no people. Lisa was utterly alone and the irony sliced into her wickedly, threatening to open her freshly sutured psyche. Her eyes watered, turning the blindfold into a damp mess, then a tiny voice awoke at the back of her subconscious.

'So that's it, huh?' You're just going to give up?' It's imagined tone suggested displeasure, even a touch of contempt. She flinched instinctively from the harshness she percieved. 'Come on, Lis! FIGHT!'

'It's hopeless!' Lisa gritted her teeth and struggled against the ropes, not quite sure how to react to the sound of her own voice berating her and encouraging her at the same time.

'So cry me a river. Build a bridge and get over it! Just because it _seems_ hopeless doesn't give you an excuse not to try!' The voice chided her.

'Oh dear god, I've lost my mind.' Lisa thought nervously.

'I _can_ hear that, you know.'

'Sorry.' She mentally replied. 'But you _are_ sort of a voice in my head.'

'So? This is just your brain doing what it has to in order to cope with what is going on. You aren't crazy, so calm down already!'

'Okay... then what's happening?' Lisa resigned to let this curious happenstance play itself out. After all, it wasn't like she had a choice in the matter. She wasn't going anywhere.

'Hell if I know. I'm essentially you. But we can find out. What do you know?' The voice turned serious.

'Well, I _know_ that this **sucks**. The floor is hard, I can't feel most of my arms, the air is too dry and now I'm talking to myself. Did I mention how much this _**SUCKS**_?!'

'Yes.' It responded coyly. 'But you haven't really answered the question. Those are complaints. What do you _know_?'

'What do you want? I'm tied up and blindfolded, alone in some godforsaken room with god knows what. How much else is there I could know?'

'Think harder. How did you get here?'

'I can't remember! The last thing I know I was doing was going to school and I don't even know how long ago that was! What am I missing?'

'Stop panicking! Someone had to bring you here, right? You didn't get abducted, bound and neatly blindfolded by accident. Now think!' Lisa's stomach contracted painfully.

'They'll be back.' She reasoned, adding that important fact to the slowly forming picture in her mind.

'Very good, Lis. Not so hard now that you have a start, right? You can prepare for that at least. Whoever did this probably won't be gone much longer. Is there anything here you can use?'

'I don't think so... hang on, maybe if I found the wall...' With something to work towards, Lisa broke out of her mental discussion and found she could, in fact, slowly inch her way along the floor. By getting to a wall she would at least have some leverage in the inevitable confrontation. Minutes crept by and finally Lisa let out a gasp of relief as her head bumped into something solid.

"Going somewhere?" a frighteningly familiar male voice asked dryly. She hadn't heard anyone nearby, and that could only mean... he was there the whole goddamned time! She recoiled in horror at the personal violation and managed to place the voice to someone she hadn't seen in a long time.

"Sideshow Bob?" She didn't need confirmation to know she was right, that voice was unmistakable, and a cold sweat broke out on her forehead. A hand grasped her arm at the elbow and Lisa felt her weight leave the ground as she was unceremoniously carried a short distance and dumped against the wall she'd been searching for. The blindfold was removed abruptly and she had to look away in order to let her eyes adjust to the suddenly brilliant light.

"Come now, Lisa. Surely we're better aquainted than that? I'll be more than insulted if you won't just call me **Bob**." his voice carried the weight of a hammer pounding nails. As Lisa's eyes came into focus, she almost yelped as she looked upon the man in front of her for the first time in nearly four years. Once tall, bushy ginger locks of hair now hung in limp, faded and greasy strands, casting his face into shadow. That face had, at one time, held the air of a dignitary but now it was pockmarked and ragged, the eyes never quite staying still. He looked to have suffered immensely since Lisa had last seen him, and the impact was evident on his emaciated body. She swallowed hard and tried to summon as much courage as possible considering the circumstances.

"What do you want with me? Just where the heck are we?" Lisa took in more of her surroundings and was struck by how familiar they seemed, as if just out of her reach to place within her memory. Bob's eyes flashed dangerously and he suddenly flew at her, holding out a knife she hadn't noticed. He stopped, quick as lightning, and gripped her face along the jawline. As dirty and tired as he looked to all outward appearances, the strength in his hands was astonishing. He held the razor edge of the knife so close to her eye she could feel the chill in the metal and she was forced to blink away a tear which coated the tip of the blade.

"Do be quiet! I've little patience for your childish concerns today!" his expression reversed itself but he remained uncomfortably close, never wavering from her face. "Though I suppose those are fair questions. You assume I intend to lure your troublesome sibling here so that I might finally taste of the sweet waters of revenge?"

As he gloated he flourished the knife away from her face, reversed his grip and brought the tip whistling back down to the base of her neck, drawing a single drop of blood from the soft spot between her collarbones. Lisa moved her head very slowly up and down, careful of the knife resting near her chin, as her heart thudded painfully against her ribcage. The voice in the back of her head warned her against any sudden movements, not that she needed it. Finally Bob stood up to his considerably full height and smiled cruelly.

"It _has_ been a long time, hasn't it? Oh, how I've missed the way you Simpsons quiver and shake. Some nights, it's the only thing that keeps me from slitting my own throat." Bob looked into Lisa's eyes and she saw nothing but endless madness. He paced several steps away, "But yes, it has been _too long_, I fear, for you fail to see the simple brilliance of what I've planned. Your brother's day will come, do not doubt, but for _now_ he is... irrelevant. I have what I want."

Lisa didn't understand what he was getting at, but a hint, an inkling sent a glacial chill up her spine, raising the fine hairs on the back of her neck.

"What **do** you want?" She repeated in an attempt to rally some amount of courage.

"I have come to understand something, child." Bob cut her off with another wild mood swing, the primal glint returning to his eyes as he casually manipulated the knife. "Every time I have sought vengance it was not young Bartholomew who thwarted my carefully laid designs.

"No..." he turned and faced her fully.

"It was you," the knife stopped, pointing ominously at Lisa's heart.

"Me?" Lisa found it difficult to speak as the weight of his implied gesture flooded her mind. "You monster, you wouldn't!"

By the way Bob's lip curled, Lisa knew now what Bob intended and it caused her stomach to twist itself into a knot. To distract herself from the rising panic, she started looking for a way out. 'There _has_ to be something I can do to stop this!'

Suddenly Lisa realized where she was. 'I knew it!' cried the voice in the back of her mind angrily. 'Krusty-lu Studios!' Maybe she could buy some time by sidetracking Bob. Lisa thought back to the odd series of events surrounding Krusty's passing and her own private suspicions.

It'd surprised the entire town with it's brutality. Herschel Krustofski, better known to children around the world as Krusty the Clown, was found face down in a pool of his own vomit, blood and tears. Since his will stated he wanted no autopsy, a fact publicly enforced by his lawyers when the police department attempted to get one performed anyway, no one knew _how_ it really happened. Bart was crushed when he heard the solemn news, irrefutable due to the fact that all DNA tests allowed under the legal stipulations proved it was really his childhood hero. Naturally it was the buzz for months to come and the poor boy couldn't turn a corner without being reminded of it. After mourning openly for a brief time, Bart began insisting to everyone that he _knew_ Sideshow Bob was the only one who could be responsible. Secretly Lisa agreed with him. Now that she thought about it, Bart's attitude had taken its largest turn for the worse right after that horrid affair, most likely _because_ no one had actively supported him. Lisa realised her mistake now, and promised herself that she would try to make it up to him if she made it out of this alive. 'First things first. I've gotta stall this maniac!'

"Is this where you've been hiding all this time?" she finally spoke up, interrupting Bob's good humor. He turned to face her once again.

"Why, yes. I have been living here as a matter of fact!" Bob spat, "It has a certain... poetic justice to it, don't you agree? The 'clown' who disgraced the name of Robert Underdunk Terwilliger in life has managed to, in death, provide him with such a convenient place to hide! Why it's almost Dickensian!

"Imagine how he screamed, Lisa. I didn't honestly think there was that much life left in the man, but the surprise was... _delicious_." Bob's head moved slightly, illuminating his face with an unseen source of light.

The admission of murder brought Lisa's situation sharply into focus. She now knew this psychotic was capable of that most vile of human acts. Two choices flashed through her head at that moment. 'I can goad him into finishing this quickly.' She rejected that on principle. 'Or I have to keep him busy and trust that Bart is smart enough to figure out what has happened, where I am and help somehow.' With a shudder she accepted the second.

"Obviously killing Krusty didn't satisfy you. What makes you think doing the same to me or even Bart will be any different? You'll be left feeling as empty as ever, Bob."

A hint of a smile crossed her face when she saw him twitch.

"I am a very patient man, Lisa. Do not delude yourself with thoughts of rescue. Today is as good a day as any for your brother to join you, so even _if_ he manages to find us, there will be nothing left for him to save and plenty for him to lose. Besides, it's not the killing that I find to be enjoyable," Bob took a step towards her, his face darkening once again. But his eyes, still visible, reflected the sudden lucidity by finally focusing and remaining still.

"It's the build-up to death. That look in a person's eyes as you steal their last shreds of hope and finally... _**break them**_. I have a feeling you and I are going to have a lot of 'catching up' to do before this is over. There is plenty of suffering ahead for you, my dear. Do be patient or I may 'slip' and spoil things for the both of us. Now we wouldn't want that... would we?"

Lisa's brain bellowed at her to run, suddenly not caring that she couldn't possibly do it. The finality of what was going to happen engulfed her, overloading her mind and plunging her back into the merciful blackness. As Lisa's world collapsed, Bob's insideous laughter taunted her from the void that rushed up to consume everything.

* * *

**A/N: **That's all I've had time to get done over the weekend so it might be another few days before I can update again but expect there to be at least one more chapter before Friday rolls around.

Oh, and I have a tiny request for anyone that reads this and feels up to reviewing. I am not 100% satisfied with the last sentence in this chapter, but I seem to be hitting a mental block when it comes to phrasing it right. If you have any suggestions for an alternate close to the paragraph please, by all means, let me know!


	6. Turning Point

**A/N:** Here I am again! (I managed to sneak in a few chapters of reviews over your way Narfy) Okay, this is where the story really starts to divert from the original I posted last August. Based on some of my earlier reviews and private feedback from some proof readers I felt it was a necessary evil to go back and fill out more content around this area of the story and towards the end. Up till now, most of the new stuff has been ad-libbed fluff which seems to be working better than I thought it ever would, but here's where the revisions get serious. Several times I jumped over entire sections and only described them in passing, not really taking advantage of what those situations could offer. With that in mind, for those that read the earlier version, you might recognize some plot points that I hit upon in this chapter. Here is the aptly titled Chapter Six...

* * *

**Chapter Six: Turning Point**

Maggie panted with the effort of sprinting down the deserted sidewalk between Springfield Elementary and the High School. 'This can't be happening', was the only thought she could muster after bursting from Principal Skinner's office and running headlong down the hallway. Skinner was quick to pursue her and even now he continued to plead with her to slow down and let him drive. That was out of the question, as far as Maggie was concerned. Nothing in this world was going to stop her from reaching the other school and finding out if this was all some elaborate practical joke or the worst thing to happen to them in recent memory.

When she got close enough she spotted a couple of police cars parked in front of the building and her heart sank. She finally slowed to a walk and took a closer look at her surroundings. On the other side of the street she spotted some officers huddled around a car and speaking in hushed tones. Curious, she darted across the pavement and ducked around to the far side, near the other sidewalk. As she approached she saw what looked like Lisa's backpack being passed from one officer to another as they searched it. Maggie bit her lip and turned around, determined not to cry. If this was all a joke, nobody had better laugh or there would be hell to pay.

She jumped erratically when a hand touched her shoulder. Maggie looked up into the face of Principal Skinner who knelt down and looked directly into her eyes to keep her attention.

"Maggie... you shouldn't have to see those things. That's part of their job, let them handle it. Come on, you had me scared half to death, young lady. Think about it, what would your mother say if she knew you ran off alone after what happened to your sister?"

"She'd say it shouldn't have gotten that far, Principal Skinner," came the all too familar sound of Marge's voice from the sidewalk next to both of them.

"Mom!" Maggie cried out, running to hug her around the waist.

"What is that they've got there?" Marge said in a soft voice. Her breath caught when she realized what the police had found and instantly Marge dropped down to Maggie's level, hugging her fiercely. "Don't you _ever_ go running off alone again, do you understand me?"

A large man with a flat, pig nose waddled over to the three of them and cleared his throat.

"Er... this isn't exactly the best time for whatever it is you all are doing over here. In case you haven't noticed this is an official police investigation. We have a missing child to find," the gravity of what he was saying was spoiled by the nasaly tone of his voice.

"Yes, my daughter! Chief Wiggum, you promise me this instant that you will pull out all the stops and find her!" Marge released Maggie and got right in Wiggum's pudgey face, glaring down at him as he seemed to shrink several inches.

"Heh, oh well, ah. If it's for you, anything! Umm... who are you again?" he pulled off his hat and wiped his brow.

"I was an officer on your force for months! My name is Marge Simpson! How is it possible that you don't remember?"

"Oh. **Oh**! Oh yeah, hey now I remember you! Guess I kinda dropped the ball on that one, huh?"

"Clancy Wiggum, if you don't turn around and figure out _exactly_ what happened to Lisa right now, I can promise you that you'll lose a whole lot more than your job. I'll personally have you run out of town faster than you can say Armin Tamzarian."

Skinner's face clouded for a moment but returned to normal almost as fast. To Wiggum it was an empty threat, and they both knew it, but he nodded grimly and shouted over his shoulder.

"Hey boys! Chop, chop! Lets get this investigation moving, alright? There's a little girl out there that needs finding! Let's go!"

Marge led Maggie back to the other side of the street and they walked together for the remaining few blocks to the school. Behind them, Skinner allowed them their distance, having an overly healthy respect for the relationship between a mother and her child. As he strolled with his hands clasped behind his back, he glanced up and down the street, looking for any sign of the missing girl.

When Maggie and Marge made it to the entrance of the high school, Homer was sitting on a stone bench with a miserable expression on his face. He grunted and stood to greet them then thought better of it and motioned both into the building. Inside, they entered the main office across the foyer where Homer found another seat and smiled when Maggie jumped up onto his lap.

"Are you as worried about her as I am, honey?" he asked in the slight sing-song voice he'd always adopted when things weren't going well.

"Well... I dunno. I'm really worried about her, dad. Really, really worried. It's not like her at all to just disappear and she's been looking forward to today ever since _Bart_ started here. Something's way off, don't you feel that, too?"

"I know what you mean. That girl is one of the few people I've ever known to get excited about learning, your mother being the first. I used to think she was just weird, but you can't argue with results," Homer shrugged and switched focus, "I get the same feeling you just described when Bart calls me Dad."

Maggie smiled thinly at her father's pretenseless humor. It _was_ rather hard to imagine her brother willingly calling their father by anything but his given name. As if on queue, Bart burst in through the door to the office and stopped short when he saw who was staring back at him.

"What's... happening? Why are _you_ all here? Look, whatever it is: I didn't do it! You can ask Milhouse, I was with him between class! What about Nelson, or Jimbo?"

"No, Bart," Marge said consolingly, "you aren't in trouble. It's Lisa... she..."

"Lisa?" Bart screwed his face up in concentration for a moment, "What did she do? She never gets in trouble, so it must have been bad. Is that why I couldn't find her earlier? Was she arrested?"

"**Bart**!" Homer intervened, "What your mother was trying to explain is... well, you do it Marge. You're much better at this sorta thing."

"Bart, did you drive your sister to school this morning?" Marge asked. Maggie was at a loss for why they weren't just saying it, so she decided to end this.

"Lisa's missing, Bart."

"W... wait, what?! No, that's..." Bart's face went ashen and he sank into a seat along the wall. He covered his face for a moment with both hands and took a deep breath, then looked up. "How?"

"That's what we're trying to find out now. Why was she walking? Didn't I ask you to bring her with you this morning?" Marge's tone tried to hide her own anger at the situation but Maggie wasn't fooled. Bart didn't appear to be either because he suddenly folded both arms across his chest and tucked his chin there for good measure as well.

Eventually everyone gave up trying to talk to him but Maggie kept a close eye on her brother and after a while she thought she saw a single tear run down his cheek. Marge and Homer took to talking between themselves quietly on the other side of the room and Maggie was left to watch the secretary perform her administrative tasks.

About an hour into the wait, Chief Wiggum, along with a couple of other cops, came in and updated everyone on the situation. They'd only mananged to find one person who'd seen her all morning and that was the Kwik-E-Mart clerk, Apu, who said she passed his store earlier but didn't stop in. He asked Marge to describe her daughter's backpack and what was in it. When Marge listed off everything she could think of, Wiggum produced a bulky rectangular object that reduced Marge to tears. Maggie got up and looked closer at it, recognizing it as Lisa's graphical calculator. That was all the proof she needed. Lisa wouldn't leave all her school things behind and not tell anyone where she was going. Even her little outburst last night wasn't sufficient to make Maggie seriously worry about her sister running away. That left one alternative: kidnap.

Once Marge had pulled herself together, Wiggum explained that under the circumstances he was going to be required to announce an Amber Alert to help pull together the necessary manpower to launch an effective search. He left shortly afterwards and that was when Maggie noticed Lisa's friend Allison standing alone in the foyer outside the office's door. Excusing herself she made her way out to Allison and caught her attention.

"Maggie? Why are...?"

"Don't worry about it, I'm getting sick of being asked." Maggie dismissed the question with a wave of her hand.

"Oh. Well, have you seen Lisa? She never told me if she made it to the A.L.P. program or not, but since she hasn't been to any of my classes so far I guess she did."

Maggie hesitated, unsure if she should divulge the situation to the only other person here that might be personally affected by Lisa's disappearance. On one hand, she could confide in Allison as long as she could be sure the girl would keep quiet about it. On the other, she probably shouldn't say anything just in case. It shouldn't have to be Allison's fault if a riot broke out because there was a kidnapping so close to the town's only schools. It wouldn't be fair to give her that responsibility without asking beforehand, so Maggie decided to leave it be.

"No, haven't seen her but if I do I'll make sure she knows you're looking for her, okay?"

"Sounds like Bart might be in trouble again," Allison indicated the intercom overhead and smiled. "What's he gotten himself into this time?"

"The usual. Even they don't know everything yet, it could be a while before everything missing turns up."

Allison cocked an eyebrow and glanced back to the office.

"Skinner, too, huh? Jeez, that boy just doesn't know where to draw the line," she huffed and quickly made her way back into the throng of people on their way to the next period of classes. Maggie stood there for several moments before returning to the monotony of the office.

It wasn't long before the high school principal came out of his office and made his presence known with a single harsh cough.

"Dondilinger," Homer's eyes narrowed momentarily before he got up and shook the man's hand.

"Simpson," the tall, grey haired man took full measure of Homer before releasing his hand. "I just felt you should know you have my deepest condolences for what has happened. The police are preparing to announce the alert so things might get a little hairy here. Fair warning."

With that, he returned to his office. Homer's strange reaction ended the moment the door closed and he exhaled sharply. Sure enough, just as Principal Dondilinger predicted, within fifteen minutes there were large white vans pulling up out in front of the building, each sporting an array of dishes, antennae and news logos. It wasn't long after that that the students began assembling, attracted by the idea of something interesting happening. Within the hour the teachers started calling the office complaining about the disruption. Aparantly several failed to keep even one student in their classroom once they heard there were police and news reporters outside.

Out in the foyer, a disturbance caught several students' attention and they parted to allow a primped man with snow-white hair up to the door leading to the office. He pounded several times before realizing the door wasn't locked and he let himself in.

"Mrs. Simpson! Perfect! Would you be willing to conduct an exclusive interview for Channel Six about what led up to your daughter's disappearance?" Kent Brockman fumbled with a wireless microphone and managed to switch it on as Homer interceeded on Marge's behalf, shoving the enthusiastic anchorman back, away from his wife.

"Not interested," Homer stated.

"But it won't take long, wouldn't you like a chance to tell your side of the story before things go sour? It'd make a great before and after piece."

"Before and after _what_?" Homer cracked his knuckles. Brockman's jowls quivered in frustration but he lost a part of his bluster.

"Could we just get a snippet? Even a thirty second sound byte would be fantastic," he sounded like a man about to be denied a tasty treat, in Maggie's opinion.

Homer growled and herded Kent back out the door into the waiting crowd of students.

"Please? Mr. Simpson, how do you feel about your daughter's kidnapping?" Kent straightened his tie and grinned so wide his face ought to have fallen off. The noise from the students around him amplified to a roar as the revelation swept through them.

"Oh, that's it, buddy!" Homer screamed in rage and threw himself onto Brockman, pummeling him repeatedly with his fists. It took three police officers to drag him off the unconscious reporter and they immediately placed him under arrest for assault. Marge, Bart and Maggie stood at the entrance to the office, dumbfounded at their continued misfortune. Maggie managed to catch her father's eye as he was being carted away and she bumped her fist into the air in a show of support for him. He smiled briefly then struggled against the handcuffs and cried out.

"Help me, Marge! Use the savings and bail me out, quick! I'll never last inside, I'm too pretty!"

Marge groaned and grabbed both children by the arm, leading them outside. They followed Homer to the officer's car and waited while he was shoved inside.

"Let's just get home. There's no reason for us to be here. Bart, get your car."

Within a few minutes, both the family's light-pink station wagon and Bart's old beater were out on the road. Marge didn't utter a single word, and Maggie took her queue, instead watching the road before them intently. After they reached home everyone went in before Marge excused herself and retreated to her bedroom. Maggie assumed she was going to begin working on bailing her father out from jail, yet again, so she let her be. Before heading upstairs herself she got a look at Bart sitting motionless on the couch staring at the screen of the television. She could see that it wasn't even turned on and decided to leave him alone as well.

* * *

**A/N:** Originally this entire section was about 3 paragraphs and the _next_ chapter was the bulk of Chapter Six. With some other ideas I intend to explore later on, this story may end up closer to 12-14 chapters instead of the original 10. As always, read and review! (And this time try not to let poor Narfy do all the work! She's got enough on her plate finishing her own story!)


	7. United

**A/N:** I hope you all liked the last chapter. I enjoyed hearing that you found my story interesting, angorianwolf. It means I'm doing something right if you've made it this far and keep coming back for the next chapter. Once again, thank you Narfy for your comments, I tried to keep this chapter up to par as well. It's a lot more dialogue heavy because we are fast approaching a point in the overall plot which requires the most setting up to achieve correctly. Hopefully you guys can stick with me for just one last chapter before finding out how Bob's plan will pan out.

Oh and in answer to your comment, angorian, the only real mention of Cecil will be in this chapter, but as of right now I do not plan for him to make an appearance. Though you know how things can be, anything is subject to change.

Anywho, here's chapter seven for your viewing pleasure...

* * *

**Chapter Seven: United**

Maggie lay quietly on her sister's bed looking up at the ceiling and wondered if, by staring at it long enough, she could eventually become a part of it and lead the same uncomplicated existance it must lead. Ever since she could remember, strange things happened to her family. They just did, it was a part of being a Simpson, whether be it a crazy cross-country trip or the occasional run-in's with the law. They even had to confront the occasional super villian. After a while you just kind of stopped caring and went with it. It stopped being unusual.

_This_ was unusual, and for some reason Maggie found she still didn't have any powerful urge to cry or seek solace with her family. That alone frightened her more than anything else.

In the midst of pondering this, Maggie reached up to the top of Lisa's bed and grabbed a pillow to put over her head. As the soft fabric touched her expressionless face, she realized there was something else in her hand.

Maggie sat up and soured when she recognized the note for what it was. Holding it up in front of her, Maggie asked it, 'Why do you keep coming back to haunt me?'

'You are Lisa Simpson,' was its only reply. Maggie shifted her attention to the mirror above the desk where only last night her sister say in the throes of her own personal struggles.

"How many time's will I hear that now, Lisa?" Maggie wondered out loud. "You can't be gone, you just can't! I... I can't do this!"

There it was, always at the most inconvenient time. Maggie stuffed the letter into her pocket and choked back her shame as tears flooded her eyes.

*******

Standing out in the hallway, Bart saw the tears in his sister's eyes even as she tried to wipe them from existence. 'I don't think I've seen her cry like that since she was a baby!'

He was then forced to admit he hadn't seen much of her at all since then. Maggie was so quiet that Bart simply forgot she was even there to begin with. In fact, the only time the spent together these days was because of Lisa. She seemed to be their only common ground aside from the occasional pranks. This was a regret he would have to atone for as best he could, and now was as good a time as any.

She didn't seem to notice him until he moved from leaning against the doorway into Lisa's room so when she looked up she jumped and let out a tiny squeak.

"You alright?" he crossed the room and sat next to her, wincing at the awkwardness. The small girl hiccuped but didn't answer. Bart decided to wait as long as it took, thinking that maybe all she wanted was someone to open up to.

Eventually Maggie turned and faced her older brother, looking like some horrendously tear-jerking poster.

"Who would do this to her?" Maggie asked softly, "I can't figure it out, Bart."

Bart considered her words carefully, and his response was sincere.

"I don't know, Maggie. Maybe they didn't have a reason. People sometimes just do things like this, no matter how horrible it is. But we shouldn't give up hope, they could still find her..." Bart's trailed off as he was overcome with a wave of guilt. In the span of a few seconds his tough-guy attitude disapparated and he was left exposed to everything he'd tried to bottle up inside. "It's all my fault! If I had just given her a ride to school she'd still be here! Now I'll never see her again... never get to tell her I'm... sorry."

Bart became immersed in his personal memories. To him, it was as if experiencing them all for the first time all over again. The hockey rink where they competed seriously for the first time... the Thanksgiving centerpiece he accidentally smashed... reuniting Krusty with his estranged father... there was even that time back in middle school when they worked together to send their parents away on a huge anniversary vacation just so they could get the house alone for a week and throw a massive party. On and on they continued, until Bart could stand it no longer, but they kept coming.

_Bart was ten-years-old again, watching from a beachfront porch as Lisa laughed with a group of people she'd only just met. The sting of his mother's rebuke curbed his desire to run down and kick the fire out. It annoyed him to no end that his sister was finding people to hang out with while he was stuck with his friend, Milhouse. Even back then Bart understood that his blue-haired friend was going nowhere fast. That night Lisa got permission to stay out late so she could continue playing with her new friends and Bart was left to seethe and stew back at the cabin they'd borrowed from the Flanders for the weekend. He absently became pawing through random drawers and shelves to distract himself until he happened across... the yearbook! 'This oughta fix her good!' Bart couldn't stop himself as he ran full-bore out the front door and started laughing at what he had in store for his brainy sister. 'Little Miss Popular, indeed. Heh, heh, heh...'_

'Enough!' Bart began to sob uncontrollably. He couldn't hide from his past, and he'd always been his own worst judge, after all. Faced with this new perspective, Bart was unable to deny one fact about his relationship with Lisa. He'd treated her horribly and it surprised him it took as long as it did for things to end up this way. Over the years his pranks and jokes had driven them further and further apart, to the point that Lisa simply stopped arguing back or caring what he was up to. Then he entered High School and the distance seemed to expand exponentially.

His actions from the previous day ran through his head briefly and Bart understood that even to this day he was making things worse between them. They were two very different people, and Bart finally accepted this. It was painfully obvious now that the past couldn't be undone. Instead Bart refocused on what he _could_ do to make up for it, here, right now, in the present.

'I _**will**_ find her!' Bart vowed, more resolute and confident that he'd ever been before.

*******

Maggie watched helplessly, unsure of how to react to Bart's emotional confession. So she kept quiet and held his hand in hers, playing silent witness. The distraught boy fell into a violent series of racking sobs before regaining his composure with a curious glint in his eye.

"Wait..." he wiped his eyes and screwed up his face, thinking hard. "It couldn't be... Sideshow Bob?"

Bart's expression shifted to one of general uneasiness.

"Sideshow Bob? Isn't he dead?" Maggie's gut instinct told her Bart was onto something important, but she felt she had to ask.

"No... you're thinking of... Krusty!" Bart went rigid with inspiration. "Oh man, if he did this we're in big trouble! Bob is crazy!"

"What makes you so sure he's involved?" Maggie prodded, trying to direct her brother's sudden brainstorm.

"He... wait, you don't know?" Bart turned to her.

"I've heard stories, yeah. He wants you dead, right?"

"I forgot, you were only a year old when it happened. Do you know _why_ he wants me dead?" his voice wavered ever so slightly.

Maggie shook her head.

"Seven years ago... he tried to set Krusty up to be killed. Krusty was in big trouble with Fat Tony and Bob found out. It wasn't hard to blackmail a man that lives the kind of life Krusty lived so he was able to force him into paying a huge amount of money to keep quiet when it came time for Krusty to go into hiding. But then Bob framed him for a convenience store robbery and phoned in Krusty's location anonymously. It happened at the Kwik-E-Mart just up the road, actually. That's how we found out about it. Anyway, Bob just wanted to get Krusty sent to jail where the mob could easily get their hands on him."

"So... what went wrong?" Maggie asked, enthralled by the brief story.

"Lis and I stopped him, is what. Right after Krusty was arrested, Bob took over the show and tried to turn it _educational_. On top of that, Lisa noticed all sorts of stuff wrong with the video surveillance of the robbery. If you knew Krusty like we knew him, it wouldn't have been hard to see that it wasn't really Krusty on those tapes. When we showed what we found to the police, they dug deeper and found enough evidence to place Bob at the Kwik-E-Mart the night of the robbery. I actually went to see an episode of Sideshow Bob's show and managed to get up on stage with him where I exposed his lies to everyone. Later, they convinced Lis and me to testify just to ensure a conviction. That meant Bob had plenty of time to remember exactly who it was that ratted him out."

"Wow... I had no idea Lisa actually helped catch Sideshow Bob," she sounded very impressed with the idea.

"But don't you see? That makes her a target, too! He's the only one with the motive to want to kidnap Lisa! We have to stop him," Bart's eyes moistened again with the affimation of his fears, "or else."

Maggie hopped off the bed and began pacing the room aimlessly. It made sense to her. From everything she'd heard this guy would go to the ends of the earth to get his revenge. After a long period of silence, she stopped at the bookcase in the corner and turned to Bart.

"So where is Bob? He escaped from prison a long time ago and kept coming after you, didn't he?"

"I haven't seen him since Krusty died. That's what made me think he did it!"

"Well I believe you. I'm pretty sure Bob is involved in this, its too farfetched for him _not _to be. But where would he hide?" Maggie began trying to make sense of everything that'd happened so far. Any way she looked at it, she arrived at the conclusion that Bob couldn't be too far from the high school. How else would he have been able to spot her going to school? Where would he go when he had her? There had to be someplace in town where nobody would think to check. On a hunch, she asked, "You said he worked with Krusty?"

"Yep. He spent years as a sidekick, how else would he have gotten a name like Sideshow Bob? Why?"

"Just curious, give me a few minutes to think about it. Any ideas?"

Bart's head slumped as he shrugged, at a loss for a better answer. The wheels in her head started spinning as she turned back to the bookcase and heaved a heavy sigh. She spotted something that seemed out of place to her on one of the shelves.

"What's this?" she reached out and withdrew a large, dusty square from a corner of the bookcase. Wiping it slightly cleaner, Maggie read the large print now visible on the front.

"Sax on the Beach?" she cocked an eyebrow and looked back to Bart who instantly perked up. "Who's _Bleeding Gums Murphy_?" Her face showed a hint of disgust at the odd name.

"Woah... really?" Bart jumped up and extended his hand, "I remember this... haven't seen it in years... cost me five-hundred bucks, but I can't believe she kept it!"

"_You_ bought it?" Maggie looked surprised at Bart's unusually kind gesture as she handed it over to him.

"Yeah," Bart gently wiped the remaining dust off the vinyl's cover, "Lisa was really sad because this man, here, on the cover died after she visited him in the hospital. I had a little money left over from a lawsuit against Krusty."

Maggie's questioning expression prompted him to elaborate.

"What? Its a long story and the point is; she didn't have enough to get it and it was pretty obvious how much it meant to her. Way more than five-hundred bucks. So I surprised her."

"That was really nice of you, Bart." Maggie said sincerely. She never thought of Bart as the sentimental type, but perhaps there was more to him than he'd shown for the last few years.

Bart shrugged again, a little red in the face, and moved to hand the record back to Maggie. As he did, several small pieces of paper fell out onto the carpet. Maggie gathered them up and looked at each one in turn.

"That's odd. These are newspaper clippings," she mumbled, half to herself, "and they're all about Sideshow Bob! Look!"

"Wait, theres more in there," Bart reached into the cardboard case and pulled out several more. Each article made some mention of the famous escaped killer. " Yeah... you're right. Everyone of 'em. Look, here's the one from when they nearly trapped him in France. And his brother, Cecil's, ill-fated prison wedding."

"She was keeping track of Bob, it seems." Maggie postulated.

"Sure does look like it. This is unbelievable! She never told me she was doing all this!" Bart whispered seriously, then pointed at one of the clips in his hand that appeared to be out of place with the others. "This one's about Krusty, though, look."

"Former T.V. clown's media production facility up for auction." Maggie read the headline and quickly skimmed through the article. "It talks about Krusty's old show sets being auctioned off to cover his remaining debts."

She looked at the next one, noticing there was only one left in the stack she held.

"Here's a short notice of the completion of the auction. It doesn't say who was top bidder, only that it _did_ get sold."

"That's really interesting and all, but why would Lisa save those? It doesn't make any sense..."

"It makes perfect sense, if you look at the bigger picture. Think about it! You said Bob got alot of money out of Krusty before betraying him, right? What if Lisa suspected Bob was trying to come after you again and had purchased the lot? He would need somewhere to take her once he had her, don't you see? A whole complex all to himself? It would be perfect!"

"Hang on, look at those dates. These are more than a year old! If it _was_ Sideshow Bob, then he's been back for at least that long! Why hasn't he already tried to get me? Why would he make his move now? But more importantly, why would he risk getting caught just to kidnap Lisa?"

Maggie hesitated, at a loss for words. She suspected Bob had a very good reason for going after her sister but she couldn't put her finger on it. Moving on to the final article in Lisa's hidden collection, she read the first few lines and immediately smiled.

"At least we know why he's making his move now. Take a look, its a notice of foreclosure on the studio due to non-payment! This is only a few months ago, Bob must not have had enough to cover whatever he had to bid to get the place! They scheduled the eviction for next week so he has no choice!" her eyes were a blur as she sped-read the entirety of the story. "It fits! All of it!"

Then she realized the implications of this discovery. Bob would be desperate, and that would only make him all the more dangerous.

"Bart! We have to go, I mean right now! It could already be too late!" Maggie nearly shouted at her brother.

"Too late for what?" Bart looked positively alarmed at her growing intensity.

"I think he's going to kill her!" she cried with enough conviction to convince him.

"Kill... no! You're right! Hang on, I'll be right back, then we'll go!" he ran from the room and headed to his own. Shoving some stacks of magazines out of the way, he grabbed his old Louisville Slugger and returned to Lisa's room. "If it is him, we're gonna need _something _to use against him... let's go, Lis! Oh..."

Bart faltered at the slip of tongue. "Oops, sorry."

"It's alright! Forget it!" Maggie knew for certain, if they were correct about Bob's involvment, that they had to make every minute count. "I'll meet you outside, go!"

Bart nodded and dashed off again to get his car started while Maggie paused for a short moment, gathered herself in the mirror over her sister's desk, then followed him downstairs. Her heart was pumping furiously with adrenaline as she hit every step.

Marge's purse lay open on its side upon the table next to the open front door, catching her eye. Maggie stopped and considered her options. 'Do I dare?' she thought before deciding firmly, 'It's better to be safe than sorry!' After digging through the purse frantically for a few seconds Maggie found the object she sought and stuffed it securely inside her autumn coat as she threw it over her shoulders.

"Come on, Maggie!" Bart yelled.

"Hang on!" Maggie turned briefly, looking back upstairs. "Forgive us, Mom. Please?"

Then she ran out the door and towards fate.

* * *

**A/N:** I've got 3 full days off ahead of me this week, so I will try and finish chapter eight soon. Bear with me folks, it'll get there. Till next time. :)


	8. Comedy & Tragedy

**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait everyone, last week was my birthday (I turned 23!) so there were plenty of other things going on that distracted me from completing this chapter. It came out much the same way as the original did but with some important differences. Most of what changed were some cliche lines which I rewrote along with some continuity problems that I'd been meaning to fix since the original publishing date. Having said that, please enjoy the first part of the climax and longest chapter to date...

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Comedy and Tragedy**

Sideshow Bob brooded over his predicament. In a rare state of lucidity, he slowly contemplated what was to come. Things hadn't gone according to the plan he'd worked out over the last several months. Time was running short and Bob was being forced to adapt to these contraints. He'd ended up with the wrong Simpson, not that it bothered him much, a body was a body and she was as much to blame for his shattered life as anyone else involved. What he hadn't counted on were the sometimes-explosive bouts of rage that seemed to come out of nowhere.

'Why do I lose control so easily these days?' he lamented. Truthfully, Bob felt he _could _do something more to keep control, but more and more he found that he wasn't sure he wanted to. It felt good to let loose and just _act_. Such liberation! In doing so, though, Bob felt less and less like his old self, each passing day his pride was wearing thinner and thinner, his actions becoming harder and harder to justify to himself.

And now this _chase _was comsuming his entire life for the better part of a decade, and that just didn't seem fair to him. Bob was growing weary of trying to close this chapter of his past, to get on with things and rebuild some sort of life. 'But the boy...'

Bob swung around on his half-rotted, three-legged stool and observed the still form of his most recent problem. Under better circumstances, Bob hated to admit, he might have actually gotten along with Lisa quite well. They shared the same passion for knowlege and proper diction. It was the image of this same girl, however, speaking defiantly before a jury of his peers, that clouded his judgement and enraged him beyond reason.

'How dare she? How dare any of them?! Laughing, always laughing at poor Robert! She _deserves_ to feel what I have felt! Ridicule and humiliation! A slow, painful death...' Bob felt his mental barriers dissolving quickly as he slipped over the edge of rationality.

"Hello, Krusty," he remarked without moving an inch. The clown materialized from the corners of Bob's subconscious and stepped out of the shadows cast by a large piece of the faded, old scenery.

"It's time to end this, Bob. For the zillionth time, stop stalling! Do you really have to play with your food before you devour it?" Krusty followed Bob's line of sight and grimaced in disdain.

"There's no need to rush things, I assure you. We are perfectly safe here, no mistakes will be made."

"Mistakes? I'll give you mistakes! You've already made **one**! The backpack getting left behind? Remember that little doozy? Amateurs would do a better job than you... so sloppy! And look! You're about to make another one! She's been here for a long time when she should already be cold."

"Stop! I've had enough of your preaching! What has to be done _will_ be done, so _just... shut... up._" Bob drove his point home by aiming the gun in his hand at Krusty and firing off a few rounds, dispersing the apparition. To the side, Lisa stirred and he intoned darkly, "It's time."

Holstering the gun as he rose from the stool, Bob calmly sauntered over to the spot where she was beginning to come around. With a haughty grin, he casually aimed a kick for her mid-section.

"Get up!" Bob snarled as Lisa cried out and tried to curl up into a tighter ball. He then continued, much softer, "I promised you some fun, didn't I?"

He took ahold of the hair on the back of Lisa's head with a dark chuckle and firmly tugged her up off the ground to stand on tip-toe. Inwardly, Bob laughed as he was forced to bend down, allowing him to get right in her face.

"So, shall we begin?" He reached behind his back and produced his knife. With measured precision, Bob slapped the flat of the blade against the shivering girl's cheekbone.

Lisa looked into his eyes and saw no reason to doubt what would inevitably follow. She fell into her center of calm and gathered together the anger and frustration she'd been storing up since returning to consciousness thirty minutes ago. Lisa was slowly coming to accept that, perhaps, nobody would be coming after all.

With a loud hack, she spat in Bob's face.

"Hmm... what a charming little girl you are, Lisa." Bob let go of her to wipe the spittle from his eyes and nose. Abruptly he straightened and whipped the butt of the knife against Lisa's temple. She overbalanced with a whimper, having been deprived of her natural balance by the ropes still tight around her arms and legs. As she crashed heavily to the floor in a heap, white stars exploded into her vision and everything seemed to darken several shades.

*******

15 minutes earlier...

Bart's tired, old Buick rolled to a stop next to the tall wall that enclosed the bulk of Krusty-lu Studios. Shutting off the engine, Bart pulled a cell phone from his pocket and paused, unable to decide.

"Maybe we should call the police and give them the address," he glanced at Maggie for her opinion.

"It couldn't hurt..." she responded nervously. The reality of what they were about to do was settling in on her and she was forced to let out an involuntary shudder as she realized that her sister was probably in there, alone with a psycopathic killer who might just kill them all. Bart placed the call anonymously, then hung up and surveyed the buildings visible against the sky just on the other side of the wall.

"Let's check the front gate, Bob might not've locked it if he was in a hurry," Bart suggested as he reached into the back seat, grabbed his bat and got out. Maggie nodded, following suit. A short time later they reached the imposing, rusty steel gates and came to a stop in unison. Bart grabbed one of the thick bars and pushed with all his strength, but the gate remained shut. Then he tried pulling it, with similar luck.

"I can climb over and unlock it from the inside, I think," Maggie stepped up next to her brother as he panted in frustration. She looked for an obvious way up and found it, "Can you give me a boost?"

"You'd better be careful, that's a big drop," but Bart set the bat down and offered his hands, cupped at knee height, despite any doubts he may have had. She stepped onto the makeshift platform, holding onto the bars for support. Slowly, Bart lifted his sister up, with no small amount of effort, to the lip of the gates. Bart added through the strain, "Heh, I bet he didn't count on you being with me!"

Maggie clamped on as tightly as she could and struggled against the incessant pull of gravity, cursing every snack she'd ever eaten. Finally she managed to hook a leg around the top of one of the bars jutting into the sky. Using the leverage from the horizontal bar near the top, Maggie succeeded in reaching her goal and perched herself delicately on the thin gate.

"One... two... three...!" she quietly counted, then launched her body out into the open air. Her landing was far from smooth and she hit with a sickening smack that echoed throughout the vacant lot, knocking the wind out of her with the sheer force of it.

"You okay?" Bart softly gasped. Maggie coughed and sucked in deep lung-fulls of oxygen before rolling over to stick her thumb up. He breathed a sigh of relief, retrieved his bat and waited for her to recover. Eventually Maggie got to her knees and explored her surroundings with her eyes. A smile lit up her face when she spotted what was obviously a guard's shack off to one side of the entraceway, its door cracked open slightly.

She stood and limped slightly with her first few steps towards it. 'Just a small sprain, walk it off!' Maggie scolded herself. The door opened easily when she pushed, revealing a simple office. There was a stool for the guard on duty to sit on in front of a tall control panel. Her leg throbbed as she climbed the stool and reached out for the button clearly marked 'Open'. Maggie slammed her palm down on it with a groan of pain and fell back to the ground.

Outside the heavy gate shuddered and creaked eerily as it swung inwards, allowing Bart inside the facility. Maggie reappeared from inside the old checkpoint, still walking stiffly as she approached.

"You _sure_ you're alright?" Bart asked with concern in his eyes.

"Don't worry about me, I'll manage." she replied breathlessly, becoming a little annoyed with her brother's constantly babying attitude. It wasn't like he and _Lisa_ weren't doing this sort of thing at her age, why should she be considered any different? She shook her head and changed the subject, "Which building should we check first?"

Bart paused and thought back to his childhood, trying to recall how Bob operated. A cog turned.

"Well, if I know Bob, he's going to want somewhere special. I'd bet Homer's last doughnut he's... Yeah, maybe..."

Maggie shifted her attention from the empty complex in front of her to Bart as he trailed off.

"Maybe? Maybe... what? Do you know where they are or don't you?"

"It sounds a little too easy, but it sort of makes sense. We should check it out, at least." Bart started walking but Maggie was lost.

"Where?" she asked firmly, forcing Bart to half and turn to regard her as an equal.

"Oh, right. Krusty filmed his show on the largest set in the largest building. If I wanted to be sure I'd be alone, that'd be where I'd hide. Krusty really liked his privacy... but that's... another long story."

"Alright, that's a start," Maggie was nodding even before Bart finished speaking. A moment later they were walking again and she pulled her coat tight around herself, shivering as the sun slowly dipped over the western wall in the distance.

Bart seemed not to notice while he tried to remember the way to the building. After several attempts, accompanied by excessive bouts of swearing and smashing of innocent glass objects, Bart was showing signs of desperation.

"Take it easy, Bart. Just slow down and think." Maggie huffed, becoming more than a little frightened of the increasingly foreboding shadows around them. Bart stopped and rubbed his temples with a groan.

"This is taking too long!" he answered, "I need to find a landmark."

Bart spun in place and glanced at every building, trying to call back the general layout of the studios. In the gathering twilight each one looked the same as the next, save for the closest ones.

"Hmm... just over here, I think..." he walked around a corner and quickly turned back, "This is it!"

Maggie rounded the corner and nearly screamed as a gigantic effigy of Krusty gaped happily at her from the front of a nearby building. The hair and eyes were high up near the top of the building while the nose and mouth formed a grotesquely colored entrance. In front of the wide grin sat an Oldsmobile that appeared to have been left there in a hurry. This was obvious due to the driver's side door and trunk being left flung wide open.

"C'mon! This has to be it!" Bart whispered forcefully. He stooped and cautiously started running towards the large door that was located at the back of Krusty's mouth, with Maggie close behind. The door protested loudly when Bart pushed it open, causing them to freeze in place.

"Last chance to turn back, you know," Bart chanced another whisper to his panting sibling. She glared at him indignantly and firmly set her stance showing him she wasn't going anywhere. He nodded appreciatively and patted her on the shoulder. "Okay, thanks... now quietly..."

Together they crept through a spacious entry-hall which was in severe disrepair. 'Just like I remember it!' Bart mused. Everything was here even after all this time. Fragments of memories seeped into his mind and he envisioned the riot-geared police that filled this same hall the last time he was here, right after Krusty's death, and kept everyone in check. Bad memories. Tiny movements from every shady corner made them jump until a six-legged monstrosity skittered across their path. Bart's grip on his bat tightened momentarily.

"Cock-a-roach." Bart muttered, stepping heavily on top of it.

"Eww..." Maggie paled a little at the display and Bart let a faint grin play across his face at her squeamishness. 'Like old times.' he thought bitterly.

"Down this way," he scraped the insect off on a dusty, plastic chair that sat nearby and continued deeper into the building. Bart opened a door near the back of the foyer, revealing a long hallway with several lights broken and more than a few flickering out of time with each other. Between the sporatic light changes, Maggie noticed dozens of doors set at regular intervals along the right-hand side of the hallway.

"These all lead to the center stage where Krusty worked his magic," Bart explained before tugging on the handle of the one nearest to them.

Behind the door lay a vast darkened room where row after row of child-sized seats were laid out in a descending fashion for as far as they could see in either direction . Down further, past the tiny silhouettes and stairs, sat the stage. It was only visible by the illumination of a single, cannon-shaped floodlight overhead.

Near the edge of the light's radius sat a lone, slumped figure that Bart couldn't immediately recognize. He motioned for Maggie to keep quiet again and follow him as he carefully slid into the room and closed the door behind them. They made progress down to the stage as quickly as their rattled nerves would allow.

"Hello, Krusty." Sideshow Bob's deep voice reverberated throughout the room and Bart had to clamp a hand tightly over his mouth to keep from screaming bloody murder. The duo spotted a large prop near the bottom of the steps and both had the same thought. As the crouched behind it, Bob stirred and said something about mistakes out loud to himself.

"What's... he... doing?" Maggie mouthed to Bart after tugging on his sleeve. He simply shrugged and looked, if it were possible, even more concerned about the situation. Bob's strange behavior, coupled with the odd mention of Krusty, set Maggie on edge like nothing had before. It was like someone was dragging a razorblade along the back of her neck just lightly enough not to break the skin. 'He's lost it... omigod... we're all gonna die!' she stifled the panic before it could grasp control and then jumped as Bob began shouting randomly.

"Stop! I've had enough of your preaching! What has to be done _will_ be done, so..." Bob's last few words were lost as his hand appeared, holding a gun up to some perceived adversary and he fired three times.

Bart and Maggie gaped at each other as Bob's erratic behavior faded with two more words.

"It's time." Bob stood slowly and disappeared towards the far side of the stage, beyond their ability to see. Several moments later they heard him yell sharply.

"Get up!" which was followed by a dull '_thwump_' and an evil cackle. Bart's eyes widened as he heard a female voice cry out in pain and he started to shake with fury. Maggie swallowed her own feelings and put a hand on Bart's shoulder.

"Not yet... please!" she pleaded when he turned to her. Maggie snapped her mouth shut tight when she saw the look in his eyes. In the distance they heard a soft, wet, smacking sound and Bob's voice echoed venomously after a brief pause.

"Hmm... what a charming little girl you are, Lisa."

Bart tried to stand up abruptly but Maggie grabbed on with her other hand, torn between not wanting to be found out and a strong desire to let go of her brother and rush out along with him.

A sharp, metallic ringing filled the air just then and Bart would wait no longer. His decision made, he shook free of Maggie's death grip and called out as calmly as he could manage.

"Bob! Stop!" Bart hefted the bat out in front of him and stepped into the circle of light as Maggie struggled with her aching leg to catch up with him.

"Who's there?" Bob spun and took out the gun again. As he leveled the weapon at the intruder, he moved in closer, partially back into the light. "Bart Simpson? What a pleasant surprise! Are you another one of 'them'.?"

Bart gasped at Bob's haggard appearance and he struggled to regain his composure before answering the insane question.

"What? Them? Just let my sister go Sideshow Bob!" he puffed out his chest and tried to sound as confident as possible.

"I've become so _**sick**_ of that 'honorific' over the years! Why do you children mock me so?" Bob paused and then tilted his head in a curious fashion, back and to the right. "You can't possibly be standing here before me on the night of my penultimate triumph, can you? There is simply no way you could be here so quickly. This seems too good to be true! Lies! Be gone, false vision!"

The scene around him froze as Bob licked his lips and pulled the trigger.

Maggie and Lisa shrieked in unison while Bart grunted, dropped his weapon and stared down at the rapidly expanding blot of red on his chest. He turned his eyes back to Bob with a questioning look before collapsing to the ground in a jumbled heap.

"You... mean he was... _real_?" Bob answered of his own accord. He trembled and let out a long, insidious laugh, born of the pits of Hell itself. "At last! Retribution!"

*******

Maggie now found herself face to face with the man who'd single-handedly made her family's life a living nightmare, the man who's sole purpose in life was to kill her brother, the man who _shot_ her brother in cold blood. A frightening center of focus overtook her senses. She moved into the radius of light and glared at him.

"What's this now? Little Lisa Simpson?" Bob said joyfully with a glance over his shoulder to where the real Lisa still lay in stunned silence.

"How wonderfully appropriate!" he began laughing again.

Maggie absorbed his words and added them to her collective rage. He hadn't moved or shot her yet, so she used it to her advantage.

"No? Well perhaps you know how I should take care of the 'you' over there? I daresay that would make a fitting end to this ordeal."

Maggie's eyes narrowed into slits at the mention of that unthinkable deed. Wasn't one enough? No, she would not permit this man to hurt anyone else ever again. She reached into her coat and withdrew her mother's handgun slowly, letting Bob see every movement.

"I see, just like her brother then? A sentmentalist's approach, you suppose?" Bob grinned madly and stroked the chamber of his own gun with the tenderness of a loving mother.

Maggie clicked off the safety and brought the weapon to bear on Bob, who was still preoccupied with his own firearm.

Finally coming out of his reverie, Bob looked at 'Lisa' again and noticed the twin streaks of crystal clear tears that ran the length of Maggie's face.

"Whatever is wrong, dear child?" Bob inquired.

Maggie sniffed and replied, her voice carrying an unnatural chill in its deathly calm.

"My _name_ is **Maggie**." she aimed carefully and squeezed the trigger.

"Ma-" Bob managed before his face imploded and he flew several feet backwards to the ground. Maggie was knocked from her feet by the force of the recoil but all she could think to do was desperately focus on making her numb fingers let go of the gun. After succeeding she struggled back up to her feet.

*******

"Maggie!" Lisa cried from behind Bob's twitching body and the shaken girl ran around it to find her sister tied up on the ground. "He's got a knife! Oh god, Bart! We have to help him Maggie!"

Lisa watched as Maggie turned around, ran back to Bob's corpse and started searching it.

"Its on his back!" she offered and moments later Maggie returned to cut Lisa's bonds. When she finished, Maggie threw the knife away into the gloom with a look of disgust and helped her older sister to her feet. They made their way to the crumpled body of their fallen brother.

"Oh my god..." Lisa moaned as she fell to her knees. Her eyes, blurred with tears, were having trouble making sense of what she was seeing, "There's so much blood..."

Maggie found the presence of mind to lay Bart out flat, and as she watched she saw his chest weakly rise and fall.

"He's still breathing! Lisa, take my coat and try to slow the bleeding. Help is on the way!" Maggie looked Lisa in the eye and the both understood instinctively what needed to happen. Maggie removed her jacket hastily and handing it to Lisa before turning to go find the police they'd called earlier.

As Maggie ran from the room, Lisa looked at her brother's pale, clammy visage and wept for want that she could take his place while she held the coat firmly over his wound with one hand. With the other she gently stroked her hand through his hair.

Everything was happening too fast and between the noise of the sirens in the distance and her own choked cries, Lisa could find nothing comforting to say.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry for the cliffhanger, folks. If you want to draw and quarter me then please do so but you will still have to wait until next week to find out what happens. There you go, Narfy... you said you were curious about what Maggie had stuffed into her coat in the previous chapter. Was it what you were expecting? Please R&R if you've been following this story and are still enjoying the direction it is going. There's still at least 3-4 chapters left and I would also like to note that as of this chapter it is now longer than the original.


	9. Consequences

**A/N:** Update time again. This chapter features a song by Jane Siberry titled "Calling All Angels" so you should check it out on youTube or something if you want to hear what it sounds like. I am just going to abbreviate the lyrics as the full song would take up alot of space. Things are slowly falling into place now so please be patient as the details and events play themselves out. From what I came up with today there will most likely be 13-14 chapters in total.

Thank you for your continuing efforts on reviewing, Narfy. It's always a joy to hear what you think about the chapters and I hope this one doesn't disappoint. And since I can't reply directly to Jen's review I'll just say it here: I don't really know how to respond to a review like that, it makes me extremely happy to hear you were able to immerse yourself in the story and managed to find alot of the stuff hidden throughout the plot. If you didn't read it the first time you are in for some interesting moments ahead so I hope you like them much as what I've done so far.

* * *

**Chapter Nine- Consequences**

Lisa looked upon the reddish-brown box displayed before her. It was simple and elegant, wreathed in flowers of every shape, size and color. She could see several pictures adorning the coffin that reminded her of happier times in her life, but under these circumstances they only served to make today all the more painful to endure.

She knew what that box contained, but every shred of sanity she clung to refused to admit the truth. In the background she could hear a slow, lilting, organ-based melody that spoke to her of hope through transition and change. The music made her eardrums throb so she quickly drowned it out and returned her attention to her immediate surroundings.

On Lisa's left sat Homer and Marge, gratefully accepting the offered hands of solace.

"We're so sorry for your loss... you know you can always count on us for support. After all you done-diddly-did when I lost Maude..." Ned Flanders gathered his sons and led them to a nearby pew where they fell to their knees and bowed their heads.

Maggie sat on Lisa's right, transfixed with the sheer number of mourners showing up. Every now and then the small girl would catch a sight of the casket up front and break down into fresh tears, each drop tearing Lisa's heart to shreds. No one should have to face a loss like this at her age, Lisa knew this better than most.

A collective hush filled the chapel as Reverend Lovejoy entered the room and the music faded abruptly. He solemly approached the short podium adjacent to the casket and cleared his throat. For a few moments, Lovejoy scanned the reading that had been prepared for him and held up his hands as he began to read aloud.

"We gather here, today, in order to mourn the passing of Bartholomew Jo-Jo Simpson. The tragic events that brought such an abrupt closure to Bart's short life _truely_ affect us all. Let us lend our understanding and support to the family of young Bart, however, for it is **now** that they need our help the most."

"In life, Bart was known by most of the people in our community, though perhaps not always in the most joyful light... **Anyway**, we will always hold him in our hearts and minds as the youngster who tried to set an example for how to live a happier existance." Timothy Lovejoy continued on for a few minutes before he paused and rechecked his notes.

"I understand a few of his friends and family have some things they would like to share with us about Bart, so if you wish to say anything please come up front. Now is the time."

Maggie started and looked up at her family. Marge nodded serenely, nudging Homer and Lisa out of their seats. The family rose in unison and filed out into the large center aisle, making their way to the front of the chapel.

Marge and Homer approached the coffin first, both shaking visibly as the body within was suddenly visible. Maggie sniffed and followed her parents, but Lisa hung back. She watched her family and tried to borrow their strength so she could go through with this.

Marge finally turned and beckoned to her eldest daughter, prompting Lisa to take a few steps forward.

She could see him now.

Tears splashed down her face as she fell to her knees on the thinnly-padded bench in front of her brother's body. Maggie patted Lisa on the shoulder consolingly before walking to the podium and grabbing the microphone. She adjusted it closer to her face and began to speak.

"Excuse me, everyone. My name is Margaret Simpson, everyone just calls me Maggie. If it would be alright, I have a song prepared to sing for my brother, Bart," she looked out at her grieving audience and saw no objection. Maggie's voice began to echo hauntingly through the high-ceilinged chamber as Lisa turned to regard her sister in awe.

_Oh a man in placed upon the steps and a baby cries,_

_And high above you can hear the churchbells_

_Start to ring._

_And as the_

_Heaviness, oh the heaviness, the body_

_Settles in._

_Somewhere you can hear a mother sing._

_Then it's one foot, then the other,_

_As you step out on the road of hope._

_Step out on the road._

_How much weight? How much?_

_Then it's how long? And how far?_

_And how many times_

_Oh, before it's too late?_

_Calling all angels, calling all angels_

_Walk me through this one,_

_Don't leave me alone._

_Calling all angels, calling all angels._

_We're tryin' and we're hopin',_

_But we're not sure how..._

_Ah, but if you could,_

_Do you think you would_

_Trade in all, all the pain and suffering?_

_Ah, but then you'd miss_

_The beauty of the light upon this earth,_

_And the sweetness of believing..._

Lisa found that she had trouble taking her eyes off of Bart as her sister's song drew to a close. When Maggie's voice faded, she turned and Lisa saw the gun she suddenly held in her hands.

"You have to be strong, Lis! Make it right, please!"

Lisa couldn't stop herself from rising and reaching for the gun. As her hand closed over the warm barrel it began shaking violently before a brilliant light suffused her senses and there was an ear shattering explosion.

"Lisa!"

She forced open her eyes, breathing heavily, and looked out the window pressed up against her face. Just visible through the collective gloom she could make out her house approaching.

"This it?" asked the man in the driver's seat up front, she noted that next to him sat another man. Lisa also saw they were in police uniforms and recognized the one who spoke as Eddie, a local cop. She sat up and shook her head, trying to clear away the horrible images that fought their way into her mind. The fog started to clear and Lisa recalled why she was in the back seat of a cop car. In her lap lay the damp coat she'd refused to turn over to the police. In the confusion of the moment nobody pressed her and Lisa dimly remembered concealing her mother's small handgun inside of it. Sure enough, she could feel its cold handle through the thick cloth.

"Lisa?" Maggie asked again and glaced up to the expectant faces of the two officers.

"Yes, I'm sorry, must've dozed off there for a second. I'm still a little dizzy from the chloroform..."

"S'no problem, you sure you wouldn't rather just go to the hospital? We can bring your parents there as soon we fill 'em in on the details," offered Lou, the other officer, from the passenger's seat.

"No, thank you," she answered firmly. "I have to see my mom first, she needs to hear what's happened from me directly."

Lisa wrapped the gun tightly inside the bloody coat and opened the door to get out as they rolled to a stop in the driveway. The moment her foot hit the driveway the front door flew open. Marge appeared, in silhouette, in the entryway and gasped when she saw her oldest daughter.

"Lisa, oh thank god! Where have you been?!" she made it halfway down the paved walkway before spotting Maggie's coat, held protectively in Lisa's arms.

She froze.

"Lisa... where's Maggie? She and Bart disappeared an hour ago, where's your sister?!" Marge wrung her already red wrists and approached her daughter. "Tell me, please?"

"I'm right here, Mom!" Maggie cried out and ran awkwardly around from behind the police cruiser. She positively flew into her mother's waiting arms.

"Oh! My precious little angel! You never should've left without telling me! What did I just tell you earlier? I was so worried about you, what with your sister and everyting!" Marge paused to catch her breath, though she sounded relieved. "I'm going to have a very serious talk with your brother, girls. He's sixteen for crying out loud, he should know better! Where is he?! Where's Bart? Stop hiding, young man! Is he still in the car?"

"Mom..." Lisa tried to say, but her voice caught in her throat. She felt like she was going to choke on the thickness that hung in the air. Maggie noticed her sister's hesitation and grabbed her mother's hand to get her attention again.

"Bart got hurt, Mom," she said delicately. "He's at the hospital, so we need to get up there."

Lisa held up the coat with one hand while she tucked the gun safely into the waist of her jeans, underneath the hem of her t-shirt. Marge glanced up and her face blanched which she saw the amount of blood covering it.

"Y...your father will be home soon. He should know, yes... oh! No! He needs to meet us at the hospital, we can't wait for him!" Marge attempted to remain calm and take control of the situation, but to her daughters she appeared to be unable to decide what to deal with first.

"Mom, take it easy. Go inside, call the jail and make sure he gets the message. Lisa and I will get changes of clothes and anything else we might need ready to bring with us," Maggie offered.

"Good thinking, Maggie." Lisa stepped forward, "We'll get ready while you call Dad. We can leave as soon as you get through to him."

"You folks want an escort? Y'know, extenuating circumstances and such?" called Lou from the cop car.

"Yes! Oh, thank you! Just give us a few minutes to get some things, we'll be right back!" Marge disappeared inside the house.

Lisa looked at Maggie, who eyed the gun concealed at her sister's waist, as they followed their mother.

"We gotta put it back!" Maggie implored her sister desperately, "She can't find out!"

"Actually, we should clean it first, so it doesn't smell like gunpowder," Lisa said knowedgeably, with a frown. "Make sure she stays upstairs for now, I'll need a few minutes."

Lisa walked through the living room and turned quickly, heading into the kitchen, leaving Maggie stumped as to how her sister'd ever attained _that_ piece of knowledge. She plodded up the stairs and down the hallway to her bedroom at the end of the hall. It stood opposite her parents room, so she left the door open in order to better watch for her mother. Methodically, Maggie gathered together the few things she would need for an overnight stay at the hospital.

'I killed a man today.' The thought crept through her head, catching Maggie off guard. 'I wonder if he felt it.'

She gave an involutary shudder, fled out into the hallway and went into Lisa's room. Maggie quickly began repeating the process, trying to distract herself from those errant thoughts. In the corner of the room, shining proudly on its display stand, stood Lisa's saxophone. She expertly disassembled the instrument without thought, having watched her sister do it countless times, and packed it safely into its storage case.

Out in the hallway, Marge opened her bedroom door and paced towards the stairs. Satisfied that her work was done, Maggie stood and turned to catch her mother's attention.

"Hey, Mom! Can you help me carry all this stuff? I can't do it by myself."

"Sure, honey! But why the sax?" Marge entered the room and looked perplexed.

"Oh... well I figured Lisa might want to have something to do later. Maybe she can play for Bart?" Maggie suggested, thinking quickly.

"That's a wonderful idea, Maggie! Here, let me take that. Now where's your sister, we need to get going! Your father will meet us up there in an hour or two."

"Oh, she wanted to sit down for a few minutes, so I packed for her. She's probably ready now, lets go!" Maggie handed the heavy case to her mother and hoped that Lisa was, indeed, ready.

At the bottom of the steps sat Lisa, waiting for them patiently.

"Got everything?" she spun as she stood, covertly throwing Maggie a thumbs up, then she saw the case in Marge's hand. "Hey... my sax?"

"Yes, it was your sister's idea." Marge replied. Truth be told it was the last thing on Lisa's mind at the moment so she had to think for a few moments before nodding thickly.

"Now come on, we shouldn't keep those officers waiting too long. Everyone out in the car, er... well, both of you..." Marge sighed painfully and plunged out into the night, grabbing her purse off the table as she passed.

*******

It was nearing late evening when they finally arrived at Springfield General Hospital. All three girls thanked the officers for their kind gesture and wove their way into the crowded emergency room. Near the back they found a short line of people waiting to speak with the nurse at the desk. The large clock located behind the nurse's head did little to ease the nerves of everyone in line. Each second ticking away, a roomful of eyes watching it go.

After nearly half an hour they were finally at the head of the line. The nurse behind the desk gave Marge a tight smile and motioned for them to sit in the stiff seats before her. Marge took her seat and Lisa let Maggie take the only other one, perfering to stand so she could watch the halls and rooms beyond better.

"Name and injury?" the receptionist asked in a formal manner.

"Yes, um... Marge. My name is Marge. My son is Bart Simpson and he's been brought here recently. I have no idea what's happened, please can you tell me anything?"

A twinge of sympathy ran through the woman's eyes and her features softened. She leaned in closer.

"So you're the mother of the poor boy that was shot earlier?"

"Shot? Nobody said anything about shot, my son was shot?! Lisa!" Marge glared up at her daughter. Almost accusingly, Lisa thought. Marge looked back at the receptionist and inquired further, "Where has he been brought? What's the severity?"

"Look, lady. Relax, we got one of our top doc's working on him right now."

"Oh lord, please don't say his name is Riviera."

"What? That quack? No he's handling the burn wards tonight. No, your son is being operated on by Dr. Julius Hibbert. This chart says he's your usual doctor so it was a natural choice."

"Good, now where should we wait for him to get out of surgery?" Marge breathed a sigh of relief and fell back from the edge of her seat.

"There's an elevator down that hall there," the nurse gestured to the hall to her right. "Just take that up to the top floor where the ICU is located and you can't miss the waiting room. Trust me."

"Intensive care..." Marge murmered as she stood and moved off to the side of the desk before proceeding down the hall. Lisa and Maggie took up positions behind her forming a **V** so they could better make their way past the waves of doctors, nurses and children also trying to get up and down the hallway. By the time they reached the elevator there were already several other familys waiting to go up. Some looked expectant, others mortified, but they all appeared tense when the light above the doors lit up and a bell chimed.

It was a large enough elevator for most of them to fit in but, being last to arrive, Marge, Lisa and Maggie were left to wait for the next one to come down. Together they watched as an endless stream of people passed them by, most of the them too distracted to look their direction.

A family of four eased their way out of the crowd to stand next to them and wait for the elevator. The redheaded mother of the bunch looked as harried as Marge was feeling and they exchanged a brief smile before resigning to solitude again. Next to her was a large young man who looked to be the woman's son. He was gazing off into space and looking throughly amused with himself. The daughter, who stood back away from everyone else, kept casting flighty glances back at them but didn't move or say anything. Finally, there was a young boy about Maggie's age. The boy smirked horridly just as another of the lights flicked on and the doors to their right opened.

"Margaret." drawled the youngster, his grin widening.

"Stewart." Maggie's eyes narrowed for only a moment before they were all moving to enter the elevator. Packed inside, nobody spoke a word as the floors passed by. On floor three the other family got off and Lisa noted they went the direction that led to the ward for comedic mishaps she'd visited once before, many years ago after Bart decided he wanted to become a professional daredevil.

Finally they reached the top floor, number five. The bell chimed once again and the doors opened. Once out into the hall they quickly made their way to the right and found the room the nurse had mentioned. It was an affronting shade of seafoam green that made everyone's eyes tingle until they adjusted to the new level of brightness that only flourescent lighting can give. Lisa and Maggie took a seat around the center of the room and settled in while Marge continued down the hall to alert the nurse's station to their presence. If it was a major operation it might not be done for quite a while so she didn't want to be forgotten and have to wait longer.

A short time later she returned and took a seat near her daughters.

"They said it will probably be at least another hour, probably two before he is ready to be brought up here so we'll just have to wait. At least your father will be here by the time we can see him."

At that moment all three silently agreed not to speak again until Homer arrived. There was little point in speculating about what might happen before things were decided for sure so it was their only safe bet. About an hour and a half later Lisa had taken to paging through the year old magazines they kept stocked in the corner and Maggie was amusing herself with the sights of the city landscape visible from the window that lined the entire outer side of the room. This late at night you couldn't make out the specific buildings, but certain things, like the nuclear power plant's cooling towers and the tire fire, were unmistakable.

From in the distance they heard the elevator doors open and a couple heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. All three jumped expectantly as Homer appeared from down the sidehall and called out.

"Marge? Has anyone seen my wife? Big blue bouffant?! What about you?" Homer pulled aside a wide-eyed nurse as she passed him and she nodded slowly, looking frightened. "Where?"

"I think they're the ones sitting right there staring at you," the woman pointed in their direction.

"Dad! You made it!" Lisa got up, smiling for the first time since that morning and stretched her muscles back to wakefulness.

"Oh, Lisa, honey! You're back!" Homer gazed up towards the sky as he began to move towards his daughter and he uttered a vague prayer.

"Who were you talking to?" Lisa smiled as they met and shared a brief embrace.

"Superman..." Homer glanced down at the floor with a faint grin.

"Uh, Dad? Fictional character." Lisa chuckled and they seperated.

"Yeah... he _sure_ is," Homer tossed his eyes back to the ceiling with a knowing smile. "What's going on, Lisa? What's wrong with the boy- I mean with Bart?"

He turned his gaze to his daughter, looking suddenly as helpless as a newborn.

"Um... well... give me a moment, Mom should hear this, too." Lisa led her father back to the lounge and waited while he took his seat next to Marge. "It was Sideshow Bob. He did this."

"Now hang on! That's done! Isn't it? He stopped coming for Bart years ago! Why would he suddenly start trying again?!" Marge looked outraged at the mention of the man she both feared and hated.

"No, Mom! He never stopped! He was just biding his time until something changed. And it did! Bob told me he was the one who murdered Krusty back then and that he'd intended to finish the job with Bart and me."

"He said that? That makes no sense, why would he want to take it out on... oh... right, vendetta. But why now? Has he really held onto his grudge for this long?" Marge leaned forward in her seat and hesitated for a moment before continuing. "What did he do to you, Lisa?"

"Bob snapped, Mom. He said he was going to kill me and then Bart showed up... he shot Bart in the chest, then... he shot himself." Lisa tried to catch Maggie's reaction, hoping her sister wouldn't object to the obvious lie.

"Oh my lord..." Marge collapsed back into her chair. "Oh my god..."

Maggie shifted her attention elsewhere while Lisa continued explaining whatever she decided had happened and spotted both the first and last person she wanted to see at that moment. He was earlier than expected and that couldn't be a good sign, could it? Dr. Hibbert appeared from around the bend in the hallway, staring intensely at his charts and shaking his head almost sorrowfully.

"No..." Maggie squeaked as her mind interpreted his body language. "**NO**!"

Everyone in the room stopped and looked at Maggie questioningly while Dr. Hibbert rounded the corner, becoming visible to the rest of the family.

"Julius! Please tell me he's alright!" Marge cried out from her husband's protective clutch.

"I'm sorry, Marge," the large man said in his deep, powerful voice. "It's simply too early to tell. He just got out of a very serious surgical procedure, so we won't know for sure till the morning, please understand."

"Surgi-pro-wha, now?" Homer asked, looking lost.

"He means Bart is okay for the moment, Dad," Lisa interpreted.

"More or less. It's hard to say for now," the doctor added. "Good guess, though."

"Oh, that's good. We'll just wait here till morning. Great." Homer stated, seeming to catch up a little, "Great."

"We will closely monitor your son's status throughout the night, Mr. Simpson," Hibbert assured him, then paused and looked uncomfortable for a split second. "I don't know exactly the best way to bring this up to you so perhaps I should just say it. I've... seen you at the church every Sunday for years..."

"What are you talking about?" Lisa looked him in the eye, already not liking where he was going with his cryptic comment. Julius heaved a huge sigh and plunged onward. This was probably one of the toughest decisions any parent could have to face.

"Look, as much as you may want to deny and distance yourself from what _could_ happen, it may be in your son's best interest if you let me contact Reverend Lovejoy."

"Don't say that! Anything but that!" Marge choked angrily as she dissolved into sobbing on her husband's shoulder. Lisa and Maggie watched their mother sadly and moved closer to help hold her up.

"I'm sorry. It was too soon. Why don't I give you some more time to discuss this? If you need _anything_, don't hesitate to ask a nurse to page me." Dr. Hibbert fell back behind his professional veneer and turned to leave.

"Contact the reverend, please." Marge said weakly.

"Marge? Honey?" Homer looked into his wife's beautiful hazel eyes, ignoring the tears streaming from them.

"It's his soul, Homey! My god, isn't this horrible enough already? I can't live with that as a regret!"

"Do it." Homer nodded to the doctor.

"Can we see him?" Marge's head rose hopefully. The doctor threw his head back and let out a short belly laugh before turning serious again.

"I'm afraid he's still down on the first floor in the recovery room for now. He shouldn't be disturbed for quite a while at which time he will be stable enough to bring upstairs. Just bear with us for a little while longer and then you be able to see him before visiting hours are over."

"Thank you, Julius!" Marge said as she settled back into her chair and curled up closer to Homer.

"Not at all, Marge. I understand how difficult this must be for you." He turned to Lisa and added, "You should let someone take a look at you before you leave, young lady. I want to make sure there are no lasting injuries, you got that? Your sister, too."

"Okay, Dr. Hibbert. Maybe in the morning once Bart's doing better."

"Fair enough, child," he laughed again, "Fair enough."

He disappeared around the corner again and Lisa found herself staring back at the other members of her family. She suddenly wanted a few moments alone and shortly arrived at the one place she could be sure to find peace this time of the night.

"I'll be back up later," she stated and began heading for the elevator.

"Hold it! What makes you think you should go off by yourself after what happened today?" Marge called after her.

"Mom, Bob's dead. There's nothing to worry about, I'll be fine."

"At least take someone with you. Homer, you go with her." Marge turned to her husband who looked annoyed for a few moments that he was being asked to get up then remembered that the cafeteria was downstairs anyways and got up without a fight.

Lisa and Homer got onto the elevator and waited patiently as it took them to their respective desires.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry, I know this chapter was kind of long (5000 words!) and meandering but hopefully the fact that it's setting up the next few chapters will make up for that. I don't know if anyone happened to catch the Stew reference earlier in chapter four, but it should be painfully obvious by now. :) Review if you'd like.


	10. Solace

**A/N:** I know it's been a while since my last update, but since this chapter didn't happen at all the first time around I had to start it from scratch. The subsequent chapters will take a bit longer than a week each to finish up (probably along the lines of 2-3 each) so everyone's continued patience with me is much appreciated. This chapter, though, turned out to be an interesting pet project for me. I learned alot more about buddhism than I knew before and it was fun to sit down and write a good Homer scene again. I hope this is to everyone's liking. :)

And I hope I got Homer right...

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Solace**

"You don't have to come with me, you know," Lisa chided her father as they rode the elevator down to the first floor. "I'll be fine, just a little walk is all I want."

Homer wiped his brow and exhaled.

"Sure you will, honey. If you need me you know where to find me," he replied with a glazed look in his eye. "Mmm... hospital fresh..."

With that they parted ways and Homer disappeared down the hallway towards the cafeteria he'd come to adore so much. Lisa chuckled at her father's antics before turning and heading the opposite direction. The fuzziness in the back of her head was getting extremely irritating and she couldn't focus on any one thing for more than a few seconds. It was time to take a few minutes and relax and the only way to be sure of her solitude would be to visit the hospital chapel. No one was there this time of night.

She eventually reached the gigantic hall where the chapel resided and was again awed by the spectacular fountain that decorated the center of the room. Lights from under the water constantly shifted colors from green to red to blue, yellow and orange. People were gathered losely around the raised edge of the fountain's stone base. An older couple looked deeply into the water's depths and each tossed a coin into it with whispered wishes. Lisa wondered what brought them here tonight, who they were wishing for and whether it was good or bad.

Tearing her gaze from the fountain she spotted the door leading to the chapel tucked back away in a corner of the room. She hoped the doors were left unlocked and was relieved to find they opened easily. Lisa closed them behind her and faced the small, cluttered room before her. A half-dozen rows of folding chairs lined the back of the room and up towards the front were two rows of real church pews, complete with kneeling pads. These were split in the middle by a thick rug that covered the ground from the entrance up to the front of the room. On the left side of the room was a large tilted display of candles set up in neatly ordered, descending rows. It stretched all the way to the back of the room near the alter and at the end nearest her was a painted black box set up on a pedestal for donations and there was a smaller box on top of it with extra matches to light the candles. The other side of the room was covered in tall stained glass windows that sparkled with unnatural lights, being illuminated from behind by the gigantic fountain.

The pleasant sound of falling water was already helping to sooth her troubled mind so she took a deep breath and made her way up to the front and sat in one of the pews. She closed her eyes and continued to focus on her breathing, utilizing the ancient Buddhist meditation technique of Anapanasati, or breath meditation.

_In..._

She focused her mind and cleared it of the day's events momentarily, calling herself back to her state of mind from the night before. There was no one there but her. She continued for several minutes, carefully tracking her breath and allowing it to innundate her being and clear her mind of all distractions.

_Out..._

Lisa thought to her practices in Buddhism over the last several years and tried to reconcile what she knew of it's teachings with everything happening around her. Technically, Buddhism taught that she should let go of her desire for Bart to pull through and allow the forces of karma to grind ever onward as they had for eons. Desire was a craving, which led to suffering, and oh, had it ever. This intentional detachment seemed to be both her key to happiness and the nail in Bart's coffin. That couldn't be right, could it?

_In..._

She applied this to what happened eariler with Sideshow Bob and realized that in his case it was an apt comparison. He was obsessed with revenge, even at the cost of his own happiness, and it brought him nothing but suffering. She almost felt bad for the misguided man, but he was already well beyond any help she could offer and she couldn't forgive him for his actions against her family. Perhaps in his next life he would try harder to be a better person.

_Out..._

Guilt tickled the back of her mind and she remembered she was meditating in a chapel. Somehow it felt like a defilement of her parents beliefs to do this here. At the very least she felt she should pray a little. Every moral fiber she'd grown up with struggled to drag her from her seat to her knees for penance. Sitting idly by and letting what may be, be was not like her at all. So, she reflected, she wasn't a very good buddhist if this was all it took to crack her resolve, but then again, nobody expected her to be perfect. That was a seat reserved exclusively for herself.

Using the top of her foot, she kicked the padded bench down from its folded position and winced at the crack of the old wooden boards hitting the ground forcefully. She slid down from the pew to her knees and opened her eyes before beginning to pray softly.

"Lord... I know we've been at odds for years, and I hope you understand my decisions regarding the church. I am not going to change because I honestly believe this is the right path for me. I live a life of non-violence, I am kind to others who probably don't deserve it to start with. Isn't that what you teach? I'm here because I need guidance in my life, though. I've encountered a situation where I don't know what to do, how to react, and I could really use some help. Please, I'm not asking for a miracle, just to be pointed in the right direction..."

She fell silent and started uttering several common prayers she'd grown up with in Sunday school, mixing the act of genuflecting with her meditative state. Almost impreceptibly, the door behind her cracked open and she heard the soft sounds of footsteps on the rug that led from the back of the room to the alter. She raised her head but didn't turn to see who it was, she had a pretty good idea already.

"I'm fine, Mom."

The footsteps halted for a moment, then continued to draw closer. Lisa drew a deep breath.

"I...I don't know what to do, okay? Is it enough just to be here? Everyone else seems to know exactly what they're doing. Maggie's got you... and Dad... well, Dad's always going to be Dad."

"Would you have it any other way?" Homer's voice filled the small room.

"Dad?" she turned towards her father and he reached down to ruffle her hair.

"Hi, again," he said sheepishly.

"What are you doing here? How did you know this was where I went?"

"Oh come on, it was pretty obvious. This and that giant water sprinkler are the only two things down at this end of the hospital. Besides, the cafeteria was already closed up for tonight," he added sadly, then rebounded, "so I decided to come check on you like I promised your mother I would."

"No explanations necessary." Lisa smiled sadly. "Thank you."

"So why the sad face?"

Lisa hesitated, trying to find the right way to phrase it so her father would understand her dilemma.

"I'm not sure what to do. Today's been crazy. Moreso than usual, that is."

"You know what I do when things get overwhelming?" Homer knelt down and whispered into her ear.

Lisa shook her head.

"I think."

She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I think about you kids, about how good you all turned out. Yes, even Bart... sometimes. I like to think about all the good times we've had together, how much I love all of you and would do _anything_ just to see you happy and safe, even if just for an hour or two. As long as it meant you were alright for the time being, in the end it would be worth it."

"That's really sweet, Dad." Lisa clasped her father's hand in hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Now, I've never been much of a thinker, and what have you, but it seems to me there's something else bothering you."

From the recesses of her mind, an image of Maggie pulling the trigger of the gun flashed into her head and she was vividly reminded of the dream she'd had only a few hours earlier. No, this was between the two of them. No need to drag others into an already touchy situation.

"I'm just really worried for Bart."

"Me too." Homer fell into a seat adjacent to her. "He's been trouble ever since the day he was born. I'll tell you this as long as you swear never to repeat it to another living soul."

"I swear it." Lisa said conspiratorially, intrigued by her father's mystic tone.

"The day he was born I was sure my life was over. He was another mouth to feed that your mother and I couldn't afford. But you've already heard that part. What you didn't know was that in the months leading up to his birth I seriously considered cutting my losses and moving on. I've never even told your mother this much. But the weeks slipped by and then he was born. It was at the moment I first held him in my hands I knew I would never be able to abandon him. He was just like a little me, barely big enough to fill both of my hands, and to me that was just fine. I've only felt that way three times in my life, and I bet you can guess the other two."

Homer's voice faltered and he wiped his eyes with this thumb and forefinger.

"It hurts so much to know he might die. We never talk about things like this, but now it might be too late."

Lisa stared hard into her father's eyes and saw the emotions bottled up that he'd never been able to conceal in all the years she'd known him.

"It's never too late, he'll pull through. He has to."

"I hope you're right, Lisa."

She frowned at him slightly.

"I _know_ you're right. That's one of the things I love about you." Homer grinned. "How are you, though? You've been through alot today."

"You know... I think I'll be okay now. Thanks for sharing that with me, Dad. You've given me alot to think about and it means a great deal that you confided in me."

"Just don't think too hard. That stuff'll fry your brain."

"Do you think it's about time we headed back upstairs? We don't want to miss Dr. Hibbert when he comes to let us see Bart."

"You're right! We'd better hurry, wouldn't want to make your mother upset, would we?" He gave her a quick wink.

*******

"What are you so angry about?" Maggie nearly shouted at the girl seated opposite her and her mother. Allison huffed and turned a bright shade of red.

"I have every right to be mad at you! You lied to me!"

Marge held up a hand and quieted both girls.

"I've had enough of this! Maggie, you shouldn't lie. And Allison, don't shout at my daughter. I've known you for years, honey, but you have no right to discipline my child."

"But..." Allison had trouble biting her tongue.

"I'm sorry, Allison! I didn't know what else to do. What if I had told you? Wouldn't you be freaking out as much as you are now? How would that have helped? Then everyone would've found out and panicked even more. You know how rumors can twist the truth. It was best to wait for the news to officially break."

"Well... I suppose I can see that side of things. Apology accepted, Maggie." Allison relented and shifted in her chair. She'd only arrived at the hospital fifteen minutes earlier and she still hadn't seen her best friend. "So where's Lisa? Or Bart for that matter?"

Marge looked sadly into Allison's eyes before replying.

"Bart's in surgery from being shot earlier and Lisa went downstairs a while back with her father. They should be back shortly, I hope. Dr. Hibbert is going to be coming back soon and then we can go see him."

"Bart.. was shot?" Her jaw fell open. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

"How did you know to find us here?" Maggie asked.

"Well, when I found nobody was at your home after hearing about Lisa I figured there were only so many places in town you could be so I tried the most likely."

"At times, I think we should just rent a room here." Marge attempted to add a lighter element to what she really meant. The three of them fell silent at the off comment and at that moment the elevator doors let out their telltale chime.

Moments later Lisa and Homer walked into the room and Lisa gasped at the sight of her friend.

"Oh, Allison! You made it!"

"Of course, silly! What did you think? I was going to abandon you?"

Lisa chuckled slightly and moved to hug her tightly. Marge and Homer made their way to sit alone in the far corner of the room and Maggie, recognizing they needed their space, went back to staring out the window as she had earlier.

"So... kidnapped, huh? Gee, Lisa, you sure know how to lead an interesting life," Allison said as they each found seats.

"You don't know the half of it," she replied dryly.

"Well, if you're going to miss the first day of high school I guess that's as good an excuse as any."

"I know! What was it like?" Lisa decided to focus on the small talk to help pass the time.

"Scary! You should see some of the teachers they have there! I know this much, I'm never learning french." Allison gave a slight shudder.

"I passed into the program, you know."

"Huh?" Allison cocked her head and understanding flooded her eyes and she laughed. "Oh! Congratulations! Why didn't you call me right when you found out?"

"I was being stupid and petty."

"You didn't think I was going to care about that, did you?" Allison grimaced at her friend's assumtion.

"Right on the head, dear Allison. Like I said, stupid and petty."

"Are you kidding? You had no control over what my father had planned for us last year. I'm just glad at least one of us made the cut! You can let me follow your assignments and then it'll be just like we were both in it together. Same thing, eh?"

"Fantastic idea, I can't believe I didn't think of it."

"I can." Allison smirked.

"Oh you're so full of it!" Lisa laughed playfully at her friend's sarcastic streak.

"So..." Allison suddenly looked down at the ground uneasily. "Is Bart going to be okay?"

Lisa stopped and the smile on her face disappeared.

"I think so."

"Who shot him?"

"Remember Sideshow Bob?"

"No way! Was he the one that kid-"

"Yes."

"Wow. Oh, wow."

Both fell silent for a moment then Allison looked up.

"I think he'll be alright. Bart's been through worse than this before." Her cough sounded suspiciously like the word '_dome_'. Lisa rolled her eyes.

A second cough caught everyone's attention and they turned to see Dr. Hibbert standing, once again, at the open passage into the hall beyond. He looked slightly worse for wear.

"How's Bart?" Marge spoke up first and rose to meet the solemn doctor.

"He's resting comfortably down the hallway. I take it you'd like to see him? Normal visiting hours are supposed to be over, but I think we can make an exception in this case, so please hurry. Just check in at the nurse's station on your way in and out. It is an intensive care unit, after all. Oh, and family members only."

Allison nodded her understanding and gave Lisa one last hug before hurrying down the hallway to catch the elevator back downstairs. Each member of the family looked at the others in turn and together they steeled their resolve and headed to the nurse's station.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for the length and general randomness of this chapter. It's alot shorter than the other's have been recently but it's all new content (sans a few lines I salvaged from the original) and keep in mind this is all leading to an interesting night ahead. As always, leave a review if you liked what you've read so far. I might be making further changes to this chapter later on and will make sure to mention if I do so in case anyone is interested enough to want to come back and reread this one.


	11. Regrets

**A/N:** Yes, I know it's been a while since I last updated but here's the next chapter, at last. I just started a new troubleshooting job for Apple this week and with working Mon-Fri again it might be difficult to find time to finish this up but I'll try my best. Thanks again for your review, Narfy, I'll be getting to your story here soon.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Regrets**

Lisa hefted her saxophone case on top of the chest-high counter of the nurse's station and caught the attention of the three women working behind it. Behind her, Maggie glanced from room to room trying to figure out which one her brother was being kept in while Homer and Marge stood, silent with anticipation. The nurse sitting nearest them blinked slowly a few times.

"You are here to visit...?" she inquired politely.

"My son..." Homer said with a saddess he rarely expressed for Bart.

"He just got out of surgery with Dr. Hibbert a short time ago, his name is Bart Simpson," Lisa told the nurse to fill in the blanks from Homer's inadequate description.

"He's right over there, bed number five. Remember to be quiet, there are a couple other patients here tonight." The woman paused and thought for a moment. "Wait, aren't you the girl I saw on the news earlier, the one who was kidnapped?!"

"Yes... and I'd like to see my brother, please. Would it be alright if I brought this in?" Lisa tapped a finger on the sax case.

"My goodness! That's _your_ brother in there? I'm so sorry... if there's anything I can do, just ask. This must be so _terrible_ for all of you..." She turned to her fellow nurses for support who each nodded their sympathies. Lisa looked at her sax hopefully and grinned when the women nodded their agreement and motioned that they were zipping their lips.

"Thank you!" Lisa turned to her family and led them into the small room indicated by the nurse.

They each let out a tiny gasp upon entering and each member of the family found a place around the bed. Bart's pallid face was only just visible behind a dazzling array of tubes and wires. The symphony of machinery that surrounded them beeped and hummed with a seemingly random rhythm. Every sort of electronic monitoring system imaginable was present which only served to heighten the tension in the air, it was like they were going to crush him under the weight of it all.

Lisa stood at the foot of the bed and couldn't help but notice his resemblance to someone already prepared to be buried. Her legs shook and she suddenly wished she had somewhere to sit down. Looking to a corner of the room she spotted a few chairs intended for visitors and quietly sat down in one, placing the saxophone case in the seat next to her.

"Oh, my special little guy..." Marge cooed and she touched his face gently with her shaking hand. "He's so cold and clammy..."

"He'll be fine, honey. Dr. Hibbert said so," Homer remarked while he gazed at his son. "In the morning we can go home and things can get back to normal."

"I hope so, for all our sakes, Homey." Marge muttered as she continued to fuss over Bart's limp body.

Maggie soon became frustrated with the height of the bed compared to herself and searched for something to stand on. She spotted the chairs in the corner and saw that Lisa was beginning to assemble her sax.

"You gonna play, Lisa?" Maggie approached with her hands clutched together in front of her in an almost pleading gesture.

"A little. It'll help calm me down." Lisa stopped and regarded her sister. She remembered reading once that music was supposedly beneficial to those recovering from a serious injury. It could also help those around the one in trouble, she reasoned. "You wanna try?"

"Me? I've never played a musical instrument before." Maggie looked slightly uncomfortable at the suggestion, then sad at the realization.

"You have to start somewhere. Come on, it'll be fun. I promise!" Lisa patted the cloth-covered chair next to her after sliding the now-empty case underneath it. "Here, use this to keep your balance."

Maggie looked at her sister blankly. 'She hasn't acted like this in ages...'

"Trust me. You'll want it, this old thing gets heavy." Lisa continued while she finished attaching the top of the instrument and adjusted the reed to it's tried and true position. It was a very tempting argument despite the obvious difficulty Maggie would have with playing it.

"Okay!" Maggie folded and flung herself into the waiting chair. "What first?"

Lisa carefully showed Maggie how to hold it, balanced perfectly against the **L** made at her hip while seated and the proper posture that would allow for maximum lung capacity. This was important, she explained, because you would never be able to keep up on the faster songs if you had to stop for breath every few measures. Maggie nodded her understanding but still found it extremely difficult to make the horn produce any noise. Whenever she felt like giving up Lisa would take the sax and demonstrate exactly what she'd been describing and it would make much more sense. By the time she got tired she was already able to produce several distinct notes and had almost completed her first scale.

"Ouch, my mouth and lips hurt," Maggie commented as she rubbed her cheeks. "Why don't you just play for a while?"

"It takes some getting used to, but very good for a first try!" Lisa beamed at her sister. "Now, what should I play?"

After a moment of thought, Lisa nodded and launched herself into a soft, soulful song that seemed to fill the room effortlessly. No one complained, not even Homer, who actually seemed to be enjoying himself as he tapped his foot along with the music. As she fell into the spirit of the song she started adding her own little innovations, subtle scale changes that would disappear before you even realized they were there, a few harsh notes that would catch you off guard, but in a good way. The complexity of the piece built to a shattering climax that lingered long after she'd run out of breath. The silence that followed was then broken by an unexpected voice.

"Lisa... enough sax already..." Bart mumbled from the bed.

"Bart!" Maggie grabbed her chair, threw it up against the bed and leapt on top of it. Bart's face flickered with life for a moment before he sighed and fell back asleep with a content smile. Maggie slumped into a squat, sighing heavily. "Ohh..."

"That's a good sign, angel! He's strong, just like his father!" Marge assured her.

"Yeah. He'll be on his feet in no time. Nothing beats the old Simpson stamina!" Homer let his hand fall on Maggie's shoulder while the other was raised into the air, balled up defiantly, and he grinned down at her. She paused, then matched her father's grin.

"Sure. You're right, he's going to be just fine."

"So, what now?" Lisa asked Marge while returning the sax to its case.

"Well, I wouldn't want to disturb his sleep. The Lord knows he needs it after what he's been through. Besides, we've put the staff out enough letting us in here so late, we should get going."

"I don't want to go home," Maggie stated.

"I agree," Lisa added. "Why don't we just go spend the night down the hall? Surely no one will object. We'll be close enough that if anything happens we'll know right away and Bart will be able to get the sleep he needs."

"Well then, we'd better get going." Marge shooed the family out of the room before returning to Bart's bedside and smoothing the hair out of his face. She left a light kiss on his forehead and headed to the door, dimming the lights on the way out. They nodded to the nurses as they turned back down the hall and minutes later they reentered the deserted visitor's lounge. Homer's face lit up.

"Ooh! A television! That'll help distract us!" He looked around for a remote, then sighed and walked over to switch it on manually. The familiar face of Kent Brockman filled the screen and all four Simpsons immediately noticed the poorly concealed bruising around his mouth.

"This is local anchorman, Kent Brockman, reporting live from the scene of our evening's broadcast. As we've been discussing, behind me lies the former studio of deceased funnyman and station colleague, Herschel Krustofski, better known to the world as Krusty the Clown. Earlier tonight we brought you coverage of the search for missing teenager and social conscience, Lisa Simpson. We are happy to update her status from 'lost' to 'found' folks! Police were unable to comment on the fortunate rescue or on the exact happenings inside this facility, but we _did_ manage to get _some_ information. It is believed that escaped convict and attempted child-murderer, 'Sideshow' Bob Terwilliger, was found dead inside just hours ago after police recieved an anonymous tip leading them to this location."

A hand appeared from off-screen and handed Kent a sheet of paper. After reading for several long moments, he shook his head sympathetically and looked back into the camera.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry to have to report this, but it appears that in a cruel twist of fate, young Bart Simpson, brother of the formerly missing Lisa Simpson, was admitted into Springfield General Hospital a few hours ago. His condition is described only as critical..."

"Aww... TV's failed me again..." Homer lamented before losing his temper. "I'll show **him **_critical_! Yarg!"

His foot connected solidly with the television screen and a loud -**pop**- filled the room, followed by a steady, angry hiss until the screen finally went blank.

"D'oh!" he grunted and got himself back under control.

"Is _that_ why you were in jail, Dad?" Lisa asked her father disapprovingly. "Did you hit him?"

"He had it coming! Lousy, rotten, soul-less, good-fer-nuthin scumbag wouldn't leave us alone!" Homer huffed.

"Sit **DOWN**, Homer." Marge commanded, her patience wearing thin for the evening.

"Yes, dear," his expression switched to one of supplication.

"Oh, Dad... you know better than that," Lisa said, smiling slightly to cheer him up.

"Yeah, I do," Homer answered with a sly grin, then muttered, "Still worth it, though."

"How did they know Bart was here?" Maggie puzzled as she turned to Lisa with a confused look on her face.

That bugged Lisa as well but she didn't have a clue as to how they could've found out so fast.

"You don't suppose... Allison...?" Maggie cringed at the thought, even as she spoke it out loud, and looked guilty for even suggesting it.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response, you know she would never do anything so crass as that. Allison is a friend, Maggie, please stop doubting her."

"But..." Maggie started but trailed off. She couldn't bring herself to argue the point, and while it was the only thing that made sense to her that didn't mean it was correct. She just didn't have all the information so there was no way she could toss around hurtful accusations like that and she knew it.

"We'll find out more in the morning," Lisa said with finality and pulled her legs up towards her chin, curling up as comfortably as possible in her seat. No one else seemed to want to talk and slowly they all managed to find positions that would allow for some rest.

In the back of her head, Lisa was far from sleepy, however, and her mind raced with the events of the day. To think that only last night she was preparing for her first day of high school and she _still_ hadn't been there. Bob's face flashed into her mind and she suppressed a shudder at the last image she had of his body. So many things had happened, and not just to her. Her mother was a nervous wreck, and her father had been sent to jail for clobbering a sleezy reporter. Her sister was a murderer and Bart was struggling for his life a short distance away. Would he truely make it through the night? Should she hope for it or let him have some peace? She wondered if whoever may have been listening up top had heard her prayer earlier and recognized that it was the first sincere one she'd made since the age of eight.

Before she knew it, the rhythmic sounds of her family's breathing overtook the quiet of the room and she realized the others had managed to drift off to sleep somehow. Lisa cracked open one eye and confirmed this before carefully sitting up and stretching her limbs. The movement made her aware she needed to visit the restroom immediately and she found her way down the hall to the appropriately marked door. Several minutes later she exited the room and stopped in the middle of the hall. She glanced back towards the way she'd come and considered her options. Would she be able to get to sleep or should she try to visit Bart one more time?

It couldn't hurt if she wasn't seen and then, hopefully, she could get to sleep. Silently she crept down the hall watching for the edge of the nurses station. As she approached she noticed there was only one nurse on duty now, the others must've gone on break or home for the evening. At least that would make it easier to get in unseen. She waited patiently until the nurse's back was turned before making her move and within a few seconds she was at Bart's door and then inside before she could be noticed. With a deep breath she leaned against the door and calmed herself from the momentary excitement. Normally she didn't do things like this, at least not without Bart around. But tonight was special, and to be fair he _was_ around.

Having gathered herself, she made her way to the chair Maggie had left at Bart's bedside and, after failing to find anything better to do with herself, plopped awkwardly down into it. She watched him for several more minutes and started to become lulled by the constant chatter of the machines. Mentally shaking herself she resolved to try talking to him.

"Hi, Bart..." she whispered. "I wonder if you can hear any of this... I... don't know what to say... where to begin. I just don't want you to feel like you're alone in this. We're here for you, all of us. Mom, Dad, Maggie... me."

Lisa leaned onto the bed, propping her chin on the palms of her hands. Thinking hard, Lisa tried to find the right way to phrase what she suddenly felt needed to be said. 'Before it's too late.' Again she recalled her surreal dream from earlier and this helped her to find her resolve.

"I can't help but feel that what's happened to you... is somehow my fault. I knew you were right all of those years ago... about Krusty...

"Please, Bart. Forgive me for being such a coward. I couldn't stand by you back then, as much as I now wish I had. Just look at what happened! I let my pride keep me from being your only support and for that I can make no apologies." Lisa fell silent for a moment.

"Remember when Grampa died? He talked about it forever, but then... he was just... gone. Dad cried like a baby for a week and it was so hard on all of us." Lisa bit her upper lip and wiped away a tear at the recollection. "It kinda feels like that now, only alot more intense, you know? It's impossible to imagine a world where you aren't around. You're right here."

Lisa clasped his icey hand in hers.

"You're still alive. Right here, in front of me. But the thought that soon, maybe tommorow? You might not be... it... it's the hardest thing I've ever been asked to accept."

"I remember the good times we used to have, Bart." She fell into her memories, more out of the need to keep talking than anything else. Or maybe it was the only way she _could_ keep talking. Lisa looked at him, his face sunken into the pillow and layered with tubes. "Remember military school? You were there for me when I needed you the most. I remember that time you risked everything on your broken leg to save me from Mr. Flanders when you thought he was going to murder me. It wasn't long after that we spent a week sleeping over at the Flanders' trying to help Rod and Todd through the loss of their mother, remember how they cried themselves to sleep? We stuck together on that one, there was no other way. Or that time I was being picked on by Nelson and his friends? I remember how you stood up to them, Bart, don't ever think otherwise. Today was no exception. When I saw you standing up to Bob... it almost felt like back then... I can never thank you enough for all you've done for me.

"I'm not sure who I'm trying to convince here, but... I guess what I'm _trying_ to say is... thank you for being the person that you are. I wouldn't have you any other way. What you did for me today I will always remember, right alongside all the other times you've stood up for me. Just... try to pull through this. Not so much for us, but for your own sake. You have so much to offer the world. Maybe not for your mind, but we need more people with hearts like yours out there. It won't let you sit back and watch someone suffer needlessly. I think that's why you're always getting into trouble over such stupid stuff. Even your pranks have softened over the years. Perhaps... you are finally coming to realize their futility."

She fell silent once more and leaned up to kiss him on the forehead. With a hopeful expression on her face she started to get up and leave when Bart's eyes popped open and he stared directly into her face.

"Lis..." he croaked.

"You're.. awake?" Lisa's face burned bright red. "For how long?"

"Since... you started blubbering... about Grampa..." Bart said with a weak laugh. "It's alright... what happened? Where's Bob?"

"He's gone, Bart. Dead."

"How?"

She bit her lip again, drawing just the tiniest trace of blood, struggling to decide whether she should tell him the truth.

"M...Maggie shot him."

"What?" Bart shifted and coughed when he tried to sit up higher on the bed.

"She had Mom's gun, the one she keeps in her purse 'for emergencies'. But they can't know! I told everyone Bob shot himself. After what happened to Burns all those years ago no one would believe it was an accident!"

Bart eyed her suspiciously.

"It wasn't." Lisa confirmed his unasked question. "She knew what she was doing, there's no denying that. But Maggie was only doing what she thought had to be done, Bob was coming for me next."

"It's... okay, Lisa. I won't tell anyone." Bart coughed again, a little more forcibly. "I'm glad it's finally over. Now... why can't I move?"

"You're still heavily medicated from the surgery."

"Surgery?" Bart's eyes widened and the heart rate monitor next to him jumped momentarily.

"Bob shot you, remember? They had to get the bullet out before it could do anymore damage."

"Oh... thanks for being honest, I guess." Bart clutched at his bandaged chest. He looked up at Lisa, his eyes rimmed with tears. Seeing his expression, Lisa realized she was being rather blunt. She decided to change the subject, but the first thing that came to mind was a question she'd been refusing to ask for years. 'I may never get another chance if things don't work out...'

"What happened to us, Bart?" The words, however soft, fell like lead from her mouth. Bart screwed up his eyes, trying to catch up with her abrupt reversal of moods and she suddenly wished she'd kept it bottled up inside a little longer.

"Wha'd'you mean?" he replied, equally soft. Well, there's no turning back now.

"Why don't we hang out anymore? Do stuff? Like in the old days..."

Bart shifted again, his expression now showing understanding and a hint of regret.

"I've asked myself that dozens of times... I don't really know..." Bart said, suddenly serious.

"Was it something I did? Or said?" Lisa asked.

"No, I honestly think it's all been _my_ fault, Lisa. Ever since Krusty... well, you know... died... no, was murdered..."

"He was, Bob admitted to me that he did it," Lisa said gently. Bart's eyes flashed with anger for a split second before he realized it didn't matter.

"Thanks." Bart said sincerely before continuing his chain of thought. "I've noticed how much worse I've been to you guys lately... it sickens me to think about it."

"It hasn't been that bad, you have your good days and your bad." Lisa couldn't bear the thought of Bart trying to take all of the blame for their problems in the past. Thinking quickly, she decided to ask her original question again, phrased slightly more optimistically.

"We used to have so much fun, can things ever go back to the way they used to be?"

"I doubt it... too much has happened since then... we've changed _so much_..." Bart's eyes softened for the first time since his childhood hero had been brutally cut down. "But, maybe we could... start fresh?"

"That's a wonderful idea, Bart!" Lisa smiled spontaneously, nodding her agreement.

"I'm sorry for what I said yesterday. It was my fault you got kidnapped, not yours. If I'd just given you that stupid ride to school then none of this would've happened... I'm sorry."

"Bart... you couldn't have known what Bob was planning. If anything it's mine for failing to see this coming. I've been keeping an eye on him for years and I knew he was probably back in town but I didn't say anything because I knew what it would do to you."

"I know you were. Maggie and I found your news clippings in Murphy's old album."

"How did you... know where to look?"

"Maggie... did most of the work. She found it... on your bookcase. Then pieced it all... together..." Bart's breath was becoming slightly more labored as he tried to articulate his response.

"Be careful, you're still too weak to be getting so worked up." As Lisa reached up and wiped away the sweat beading on his forehead, she noticed his skin felt hot to the touch.

"I take... it back... Lisa. You know, what... I said earlier? Your room... is definately more welcoming... than this... _**place**_. I'm scared... Lisa..." Bart ignored her suggestion and frantically attempted to sit up again while gasping for air. His face suddenly drained of color and he began coughing uncontrollably. When he pulled his hand away from his mouth it was splattered with a bright red mucus.

"That's-" he managed before collapsing onto the floor at her feet.

* * *

**A/N:** Yay, a cliffhanger! That's all for now, please review when you find a chance and I'll try and update as soon as possible! Should be about 2 chapters left unless something drastic changes at the last moment.


	12. Four Simple Words

**A/N: **I know, I know. This chapter is long overdue, so I'm skipping the formalities and jumping right on to the story (also: bonus points if you recall what gave this chapter it's title)...

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Four Simple Words**

"Bart! Someone help, please! Nurse!" Lisa flew to the door and yanked it open. As she tried to rush out of the room she was pushed aside by several doctors and a handful of nurses.

"He's flat-lined! Get the crash cart!" cried one of the doctors as he checked the instruments. The other two quickly returned Bart to his bed and she could see them yank the front of his hospital gown down while they charged up the shock paddles.

"Intubating... now!" one of the nurses warned.

Lisa stared at the wild scene, bodies flying back and forth trying desperately to keep her brother alive. In the numb haze she dimly registered one of the nurses pulling her out of the room and into the hall. When she snapped out of it enough to react she pulled her arm out of the woman's grasp and gawked at her. In the background she could still hear their frantic shouts as the entire wing came alive with activity.

"Charging... clear!"

"Prep the OR, he needs in _**NOW**_! I must've missed a piece in his lung!" came the booming voice of Dr. Hibbert.

"Let me through!" Reverend Lovejoy's equally baritone voice cut above the rest. "This soul _needs_ my care! He can't pass on uncleansed!"

Lisa peeked over her shoulder as the kindly nurse gently grabbed her arm again and began leading her away.

"Bart!" she cried out, renewing her attempts to return to the room. Stubbornly, the woman hung on and managed to halt Lisa's progress.

"No! Let the doctors do their jobs. He's in the best hands this hospital has to offer. Please... just trust me!" she implored the frantic young girl. Lisa stopped and tried to keep from bursting into tears as she looked up at the inexplicable woman.

"Will he be okay?"

"This is his best and only shot, pray for the best and let them work, okay?" she explained calmly.

Lisa gave up fighting, realizing she'd only be in the way, and started walking down the hall away from the ICU. Up ahead she spotted the surprised faces of the rest of her family. A million words fought to be said.

At that moment the intercom overhead sparked to life.

"Code blue... intensive care unit... repeat, code blue... intensive care unit."

"What's going on?" Marge gasped in alarm.

"It's Bart... he's..." Lisa could feel her throat closing again, just like earlier, but she forced it back open. "Dying..."

"Bart! **No!**" Marge started to run down the hall but found a large arm around her waist instead. "Let me go, Homer!"

As she struggled with her husband, the door to Bart's room flew open. Two nurses ran out, turned around and began pulling something through the entryway. Lisa realized it was Bart's bed immediately upon seeing the bleached white sheets slide out into the hall. Behind the bed came Dr. Hibbert followed by the other doctors, the rest of the nurses and an exasperated Reverend Lovejoy. The group began quickly making its way towards them as the holy man shouted angrily:

"But it's not finished yet!"

"I'm sorry, but the operating room precedes my spiritual obligations! Rites or no rites, I have my Hippocratic Oath to uphold! Now, if you'll just calm down you may continue on the way there. Got it, Reverend?" Dr. Hibbert said severely.

"Oh. Well, all right then. Now where was I?" Lovejoy scanned his book as he jogged to keep up with the bed. "Ah yes, here we go. Second act of the body's Last Rites. Recite the Apostle's Creed."

With a deep breath, the Reverend began:

"I believe in god, the Father Almighty, the Creator of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ, His only son, our Lord. Who was concieved of the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried."

As the bed reached the point in the hall where the Simpsons stood, agast, in the hallway, Dr. Hibbert nodded his head and said:

"He'll be just fine, he's in good hands with these men and women. Excuse me, I need to be with them to make sure they get him in quickly." Hibbert managed a half-hearted smile while Lovejoy continued from behind him.

"He descended into hell."

The doctors glanced at each other nervously as they finally reached the emergency staff elevator.

"The third day he rose again from the dead."

The light over their heads flashed on macabrely just as the Reverend finished his sentance. Oblivious to the uneasy looks trained upon him, Lovejoy continued onwards as they crammed themselves into the waiting elevator.

"He ascended into heaven and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty, whence He shall come to judge the living and the dead..."

Marge turned to Lisa when the doors shut, cutting off Reverend Lovejoy's cheerless monologue.

"He told us everything was going to be okay! How did this happen? How could he have missed something?"

"The bullet was really tiny to begin with, Mom..." Lisa said honestly. "With it breaking into so many fragments... it could've happened to anyone."

"But it's _happening_ to my little Barty!" Marge dissolved into tears and had to be held upright by Homer.

"There's nothing more we can do right now, honey," Homer consoled his wife. "Let's go back to that green room and let the doctors work their hocus pocus."

In the back of her mind Maggie was stifling her panic. How could they expect her to go to sleep after all of this? Once again her mind drifted of its own accord to the image of Bob's lonely corpse sprawled out on the stage floor and she stubbornly shoved it away. Realizing they were already heading off without her, Maggie hurried to catch up. This time there were other people in the waiting room, people with cameras and microphones.

"What is going on here? Who are you people?" Homer seemed to puff up at the sight of them and he shielded the others from the verbal onslaught that ensued. Questions were thrown at them from every direction which they wouldn't have had time to answer, even if they wanted to, before more shoved their way through. After several minutes some hospital personnel arrived and broke the commotion.

"All members of the press are to relocate downstairs _immediately_! How did you all manage to get up here, anyway? Do you have any idea the kind of disturbance you've caused?"

Several mumbled apologies later the group of reporters, cameramen and even a few people that didn't appear to have anything to do with them had cleared out of the small waiting room. Marge dropped into her seat and placed her face between her hands. The hospital employees grabbed the last few stragglers and excused themselves to escort the media away.

Once again the Simpsons found themselves isolated up on the top floor of the hospital and even less prepared for sleep than ever. Any noise from the direction of the hall caused them to sit up expectantly until one by one, their exhaustion overtook them and they fell asleep.

'Wake up, Maggie...' Her eyes flicked open and watered when they caught the harsh light. She rubbed them and sat up, not sure she'd heard anything at all. A glance around the room showed her sister propped up against her sax case over at the windowseat. Not far from her lay Marge and Homer curled together in adjacent seats, their obvious discomfort overshadowed by the familiar loving embrace they shared.

Maggie's eyelids grew heavy again and she made to lay back down.

'You're kidding yourself you know.' came the voice again, strangely distorted as if from a great distance. 'How can you sleep at a time like this? Your brother might be _dying_... for all you know, maybe he's already dead.'

"Stop it," she rasped, her breath quickening as the voice replied again.

'Stop? Why, when rubbing salt in the wound is so much more satisfying? You ruined my life, little girl.'

"What did I ever do to you?"

'You remember... just like that? Right in the face?'

A cold sweat broke out on Maggie's forehead as her mind raced through a succession of images culmiating with Bob standing over the corpses of her brother and sister.

'Ah... yes, now you remember. If only things had turned out that way, you could've been at peace, together forever. Instead you've inflicted even more suffering on them. Just look at what you've done.'

Maggie jumped out of her seat, frantically shaking her head to dispurse the dread taking hold.

"You aren't real!" she hissed and staggered out into the hallway.

'I'm every bit as real as you allow me. If you don't want me here... make me disappear.' Bob's challenge echoed inside her head. 'See? You don't have the willpower to resist me. Give in, Maggie, the fight is already over. I'll help you be so much happier. Why resist?'

Maggie looked up and saw she was standing in front of the elevator, its door already open, beckoning to her. Instinct overruled reason and she got inside. The doors closed leaving Maggie closed off from the rest of the hospital. In here nobody would bother her.

"Bob?"

Then the elevator sprang to life and quickly descended to the bottom floor. As it came to a precise stop Maggie's stomach caught up with her and she reeled with nausea while the doors opened. When her head stopped spinning Maggie found herself standing in the middle of a deserted hall, one she remembered from earlier as being packed with people. It was much later at night now, however, so there was not a soul in sight.

Curiosity got the better of Maggie and she couldn't stop herself from wandering down the hall towards the sound of water in the distance.

'This isn't the right way to go about checking on your brother,' Bob said tauntingly.

"I know. I'm not listening to you, go away." Maggie arrived at the end of the hall where it opened into a vast atrium, roofed in glass and lit by the fountain dug out of the center. She'd seen this fountain countless times before but never like this. With the night sky outlining it, the multi-colored fountain was an astounding work of art. To consider that someone took the time to fashion this for one very specific purpose and see it through to perfection was enough to impress Maggie alone, but to actually see the results was inspiring.

Her right index finger twitched slightly.

'What's happening to me?' she wondered. The back of her mind produced the bloody, shattered face of Sideshow Bob in response. 'Why can't I get rid of him?'

'That is easily answered, child.' His rich, deep voice purred with obvious satisfaction. 'You're as crazy as I was.'

'Why is this happening?' Maggie started to shake slightly.

'You want to be different, yes? Step out of your sister's shadow?' The essence of Bob's voice coiled itself around her consciousness and began to tighten. 'Then **BE** different!'

"Stop it!" she shouted at the fountain where a ginger topped form was slowly starting to take shape in the water's reflection. "I don't believe you're really there! You _can't_ be real!"

'I'm real enough to know you're miserable, Maggie.'

'Stop...' she returned to speaking mentally. 'You don't know... you don't...why can't you just leave me be?'

'Why? So you can go back to your buttoned-down, hum-drum... _unsatisfactory_ life?' Maggie felt a brief wave of pleasure sweep through her mind even as she hated him for what he was doing and saying. She hated him more than she'd ever hated anything before. She hated him so much it hurt.

It hurt because he was right.

'I can help you to do great things, Maggie...'

Maggie glanced back up at the falling wall of water before her, the ginger blot having grown larger and more distinct since she'd last looked. Suddenly all of her horror and revulsion came screaming back to the surface and she had to fight back the bile trying to escape. What was she doing?

"I said **NO!**" she screamed. Hideously sinister laughter assaulted her from every direction while Maggie squatted, curled her arms around her head and struggled to keep herself sane.

"Maggie?" Lisa's voice abruptly cut through the laughter and it disappeared instantly. Maggie spun and spotted the dark red T-shirt she remembered packing for her sister the night before. So it was just her own imagination running wild after all... 'Oh, thank god.'

"Lisa," she said weakly as she stood back up.

"Are you... okay?" Lisa moved closer. Maggie wiped her eyes on her sleeve when she realized her face was splattered with tears.

"Lisa?" she looked up into her sister's face.

"Yeah, Maggie?"

"Could you... uh, you know... not tell anyone I was arguing with myself just now?"

Lisa smiled knowingly and nodded.

"Don't worry about it, I won't tell anyone. I'd be more surprised if you hadn't reacted at all, so forget it. It's been a stressful day for everyone."

"You're probably right, as usual. So you followed me all the way down here? I thought you were asleep."

"I had about as much luck as you, I'm afraid. When I heard you get up I watched and decided I should keep an eye on you just in case."

"I didn't want to wake you guys up with my problems. Even if I could get to sleep there'd be nothing but nightmares waiting for me anyway." Maggie said sadly. She turned to regard the fountain behind her. "It's kinda nice down here when you have the place to yourself. No people shoving closer to get a better look. You can just sit and watch it forever."

"Yeah..." Lisa looked deep into the center of the fountain. Prisms of light danced throughout it, casting the entire atrium in a cacophony of colors. Maggie stood silently next to Lisa for a long moment as they admired the sight before them. Then, out of habit, she absently put her hand into her pocket and felt a folded piece of paper within she didn't remember being there. Maggie started and pulled it out.

"Oh... yeah. This is yours, Lisa" She offered it to her sister. "It was under your pillow. Sorry for taking it."

Lisa accepted the faded note gratefully, unfolding it with a sigh.

"Have I ever told you where this came from?" Lisa said wistfully, without taking her eyes off of it. "It was a very special someone..."

"A boyfriend?" Maggie asked meekly.

"What? No! He was a substitute teacher I once had. The best I've ever seen."

"Oh, I don't like teachers." Maggie crinkled her nose. "Ms. Hoover, especially."

"Ms. Hoover, eh? Yeah, I remember her. Don't let her get to you, not everyone is cut out for her job." Lisa reminisced, "I remember this one time I hid all of the Teacher's Editions just to see what would happen... I guess you could say it didn't go well."

Lisa could well recall the situation, trapped between her brother-turned-fink and his old nemesis, Principal Skinner in the most unlikely of circumstances. Bart took a dive, though, and took the blame for her prank. She made it up to him later, when she helped him pass the time in detention with her music and lessen the humiliation of being labeled the school sell-out.

"I'm so tired of everyone comparing me to you, Lisa," Maggie uttered, sounding upset again. Lisa jerked herself out of her reverie to stare at her sister in surprise. The bitterness she detected caused her to respond much sharper than she'd intended.

"Do you think so little of me?" Lisa looked into her eyes.

Maggie scowled and broke their brief eye contact. Lisa leaned in with a softer expression and gently directed her sister's chin back until Maggie was forced to look at her.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. Did you know, when I was your age, everyone wanted me to be more like Bart?"

Maggie didn't move or make a sound.

"It's true. There was even a short time when I actually talked myself into believing I _would_ end up just like him and Dad.

"Maggie, I know you don't want to be like me, and I don't think you should be like me either..." Lisa withdrew her hand but Maggie still didn't budge. "Look, what's most important is that you hold onto what _you_ believe in. Don't let _anyone_ take that away from you or tell you otherwise."

The small girl's eyes filled with tears as her calm facade crumbled. She wiped them away and looked to Lisa in desperation, suddenly every part the seven-year-old she was.

"What have I done, Lisa? I **killed** a man today!" She calmed once more.

"Am I a monster?"

'_You have to be strong, Lis! Make it right, please!_' The closing words from Lisa's surreal dream flashed through her head and she finally understood what they meant. Something was very wrong with her sister, something she had to fix.

"No, Maggie. How can you even say... even _think_ that?" Lisa stepped closer, placing her hands consolingly on Maggie's shoulders. The frightened girl looked up at her.

"How am I any better than Bob? If anything, I'm worse... I actually got the job done..." she trailed off.

"You're wrong, Maggie! Bob_** was **_a monster. He killed out of spite and malice. He killed because he enjoyed it... I... can't justify what you did, but you're still human enough to suffer because of your choices and actions. **That's **the difference, don't you understand?"

Lisa could see that her words did little to bolster Maggie's temperament. 'Okay, time for Plan B.' She searched the room while Maggie turned to stare at the water once again. Soon she spotted a pen, chained to a table nearby, and an idea sprang into her head. She took a few steps away to retrieve the pen and spent a few moments scribbling on the note in her hand before refolding it and returning to her sister's side.

"I want you to have this, Maggie." She handed it to her somber sister.

"But... why? It's yours... you said it yourself," Maggie squeaked as she tentatively touched the brittle paper. Lisa shrugged and smiled at her sister.

"I don't need it anymore. I know who I am in this world, and at the moment part of that seems to be helping you to do the same."

"Who I am...?" Maggie repeated Lisa's words, staring hard at the note before taking and fearfully unfolding it. She trembled as she read the four simple words that spelled out her fate.

You are Lisa Simpson.

You are Maggie Simpson!

The impact of those words crashed into Maggie's mind, sweeping aside the encroaching sense of dread she'd been trying to suppress. They held such a pure, powerful truth for her at that moment that Maggie could feel a part of herself wither and die. The deepest recesses of her psyche, parts that were beginning to blacken and fester, were exposed to that truth and could not refute it.

New feelings, ones she didn't fully understand, blossomed in the voice and quickly filled it to brimming. This was reflected on her face as Maggie's eyes welled up and a sense of joy and optimism overtook her. Satisfied with her place in the world, Maggie flung herself into Lisa's arms.

"Oh, Lisa!" she cried. "That's more than enough for me! Thank you!"

Lisa returned the unexpected embrace enthusiastically, laughing along with her sister for the first time that day.

"I'm so happy to hear that!" She separated from Maggie and grabbed her hand. "Come on, we should get back before we're missed. No sense worrying them anymore than they already are."

"Bart can't die... can he, Lisa?" Maggie squeezed her sister's hand, showing she expected an answer.

"Bart won't die. You need have faith."

"Faith? Aren't you Buddhist?"

"Faith means many things to many people, Maggie. It can't be explained or rationalized, but it can keep everyone together and get them through the worst experiences of their lives. I know it's not guaranteed that he'll make it, but I feel that he will. I don't know what else to call that. Just accept that he'll pull through and you'll find it much easier to be patient."

"Wow... where'd you learn that, Lisa? Some old book? Old man Flanders?"

"Believe it or not... I learned that from Dad." she grinned when Maggie made a disbelieving face. "Paraphrased, of course, but most definitely Dad."

"If you say so..." Maggie smiled slightly.

"If he makes it through, are we gonna tell him about Bob?" She turned to follow her sister as they started to make their way back to the elevators.

"Already did, earlier." Lisa replied. "That's... a long story..."

Maggie rolled her eyes with a laugh.

Lisa donned the same confused expression her sister wore only moments before.

"You're just like him after all, you know that?" Maggie taunted.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean, squirt?!" Lisa mussed her hand through Maggie's hair prompting an annoyed grunt from the shorter girl.

"Hey! Quit it!" Maggie stopped with a look of horror on her face. "Oh god! So am I!"

* * *

**A/N:** So, yeah. Sorry about the long wait for this chapter. Mostly everything in it is rewritten from scratch, only keeping the skeleton of how the scene played out the first time around. Now there is just one chapter left to go, and we still have to find out what happened to Bart.

Also the first line of Lisa's note to Maggie should have a line through it but strikethrough isn't supported on FFNet so just pretend like "You are Lisa Simpson" is crossed out, okay?

(I'll try to keep the next update at under a month's time... *is smacked*)

Ah, and I'd like to namedrop once again and say thanks to Narfy for helping out with the completion of this chapter. Even if you don't think you did anything, trust me, you did. I thoroughly enjoyed your story and to anyone reading this that hasn't read "Love Thy Neighbor" yet, get on it!


	13. Decision

A/N: So... yeah sorry about how long this took to wrap up. I know I've kept everyone waiting for over a month but between some rather abrupt changes in my personal life and my new work schedule it's been hard to sit down and actually commit this thing to paper. The worst part of this is... I actually ended up typing most of this up on my iPod's note application while at work so my thumbs are really cramped right now. Now this is the final chapter and after I proof-read the other 12 and polish this one up a bit I will be closing this story up once and for all (and it only took a year and a half, folks!), so without further ado, I present:

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Decision**

The light above Bart's head was really beginning to irritate him but, as he came to realize, he was unable to do anything to reduce it's glare. His arms and legs refused to respond when he commanded them to and it was only increasing his sense of alarm to find he also couldn't open his eyes to see what was the matter.

As time passed Bart observed that he was lying on his back and from the occasional touch there was at least one person near him. He couldn't distinguish any voices through the mish-mash of noise coccooning him, just fragments of words and sentences and what he heard frightened him to the point he had to block it out. Swirling through the confusion, Bart felt his stomach drop as they came to stop. He hadn't even realized they were in motion, much less going down. He could tell it was an elevator from the way it swayed slightly when those around him moved. But more to the point, as the motion ceased, the voices around him picked up in volume and urgency.

He thought back to what led up to his predicament and remembered seeing Lisa shortly before everything went black. Something about his chest and a serious injury which he was not entirely sure hadn't already killed him. He couldn't feel his body as he normally could, parts seemed out of place and the familiar sensations from the rest of his body were absent. To say it was disorienting would be like saying that a fish felt out of place in the desert. Except Bart was the desert. Nothing made sense to him and he couldn't keep track of any direction for longer than what he percieved as a few moments but since he had no point of reference he couldn't be sure.

Abruptly he felt himself being lifted from where he lay and moved aside delicately before the hands lowered him onto a cold, hard surface. The shift caused him to groan outloud which stopped the noise of people for a short time. Then he heard a feminine voice whisper something soothingly into his ear as something was placed smotheringly over his mouth and Bart instinctively panicked, trying futilely to kick and thrash his way free of his aparent captors.

Then it all went black.

The next thing Bart was aware of was his confusion when he found himself looking down at a boy laid out on a table with his chest cut wide open. He couldn't turn his head because at the moment he couldn't feel a head to turn so all he saw of the other people in the room was their hands as they worked frantically on the person below him. Bart's view of things was cut off as the doctor in charge gave a heavy sigh and announced his decision to stop working.

Bart nodded his agreement mentally as he couldn't deny the body he was staring at looked like hell. Someone pulled the plug on the monitors next to the body and yanked the sheet over the open wound, exposing his face.

In the exquisite serenity of his current existance it took Bart fully five seconds to recognize the boy's face as his own and he frantically clawed at the air around himself trying to get closer, to tell the doctors and nurses to stop walking away, to try again. Or he tried to before noting his lack of arms and legs, too. He couldn't die like this, not now. Things were never meant to end this way, he was going to grow up and make a name for himself one way or another.

Or at least that's what his mother always tried to tell him late at night when she used to tuck him in. He had bought into her dreams for the future and now, as he was suspended over his own body, Bart was beginning to see what things would be like for everyone he loved after he was gone.

He thought of his mother first and foremost, how she would grieve for him and probably never let go of the heartache, even if it killed her eventually. His own heart reached out to her in that moment, he wished he could say goodbye. Not just to her, to his whole family.

He thought of his father, the big mushball, who would cry harder than anyone else even if he couldn't admit it to himself. Bart could see why people were always making comments about him being his fathers son. No matter how much it irked him that they did it, secretly he was always proud to be compared with his old man.

He thought next of his sister Lisa. Poor Lisa, who would probably be the most seriously affected of them all as she was the most sensitive and also happened to be the person he identified and shared the most of himself with in the past. The death of a sibling was horrific enough without factoring in her limited experience in dealing with death. Sure there was that jazz guy and a few unfortunate pets but besides that and her grandparents she was new to this sort of thing.

Finally, Bart thought of his youngest sister and felt the most sympathy for her as he remembered how she was always the one who got things rolling when it got boring and patched up problems between himself and the others sometimes before he even realized there was one. She was the only other Simpson to have shown any interest in his wild side and partaken in mischief willingly herself. Even though they didn't hang out much together the times that they did were always special and meaningful, at least to him. Especially after he lost Lisa as a constant sidekick. When he thought back to the years spent babysitting her, feeding her, the frustration of listening to her learn to talk, the look in her eyes after she lit her first cherry bomb... It was enough to make him pause and mourn the opportunities lost to him. Not just with Maggie but with all of them. This really sucked.

What was taking so long? Was this Heaven? Doomed to spend eternity watching but never participating? Maybe this wasn't Heaven afterall... but Hell didn't seem anything like the last time he'd been there. Bart couldn't make up his mind, and instead settled on his immediate situation. He didn't want to stay here looking at himself, he knew that much at least. Was there something he had to do? A keyword? A prayer? Latching onto the first thing to come to mind, Bart ignored the insanity of the idea.

"Shazam!" he cried out but no sound left his mouth. In the soothing haze he spun slowly until he saw a brilliant light in the distance. At first it hurt to look at, but as his eyes adjusted he thought he could make out shapes within it. Time was a non-factor so he waited patiently as the light slowly grew and expanded before him. The shapes began to take on the appearance of people and it wasn't long before Bart recognized their faces as uniquely Simpson, though these were none he'd ever met before.

So these must be his ancestors, welcoming him to Heaven after all.

"You can stop that thinkin', right now boy. You hear?" came a familiar voice from behind him. Bart found he was now upright, where before there was no up or right, and he had firm ground below him. Any hints of the hospital were long gone. Bart turned to the voice and saw his grandfather, Abraham Simpson, standing there. Behind him was a proud looking woman with a fierce look in her eye that could only belong to his grandmother, Mona, who looked alot younger than he remembered ever seeing her. She glared disapprovingly at Abe and stepped around him.

"Don't mind your grandfather, Bart. He's just upset that they still make him look like an old man up here as punishment for how he treated St. Peter," she said softly. Bart saw that everyone else, in fact, looked to be in their late 20's or early 30's but Grampa looked as ornery as ever with his gray bushel of hair, sagging skin and age-spotted jowels.

"No! That's not what this is about and you know it woman so you'd better stop saying that! No... Bart this is very important." The elderly man beckoned him closer. Hesitantly, Bart complied.

"Its not your time to be here yet, the big guy upstairs said so, so he sent us here to guide you back, but only on one condition. Screw this up and you'll wind up being stuck here forever."

"Well that doesn't sound so bad. It's actually kinda nice here and at least grandma doesn't have to worry about protesting or jail up here. Besides, won't we all end up here eventually? Can't I just wait till they pass on and meet me here?"

"Spoken like a true Simpson, my boy. But unfortunately, no. You see it's great up here, I'm lucky to have gotten in but they say the number of Nazi skum I sent here sort of tipped the balance in my favor, so what're you gonna do? Anyway, like I was sayin-"

"Grampa, you're rambling again."

"Quiet! I'm just getting to the important part! Now like I was saying, as great as all this is you won't be able to enjoy it if you left behind any regrets."

Bart thought hard for a moment.

"Those sounded an awful lot like regrets you were spinning before we brought you up here a few moments ago, boy. Think about it, you'd have unlimited access to whatever you want here forever and ever. But would you really want to do that knowing you willingly skipped being a part of their lives for the rest of theirs?"

"What? You mean you guys can read my thoughts?"

"Yes, and before you ask, even in your room alone at night. And you should be ashamed."

"Abe!" cried Mona as she made a beeline for him. "We're here to help him, not scar him emotionally for the rest of his life!"

"That's beside the point, just answer the question. Were your thoughts sincere back there, Bart?"

"You say it like I have a choice, but I don't. Bob shot me and I died at the hospital. Seems pretty cut and dry to me." Bart looked at his grandparents hoping for some clarity on the matter.

"That's why we're here, Bart," said Mona. "We're _giving_ you this choice, but it can only be made once so be absolutely sure about it before you go and make any rash decisions."

"Rash? Like running off to join that hippie commune was rash?"

"Shut it, Abe. Let him think." Mona turned to Bart and put her hand on his shoulder. "Look, Bart, I won't lie to you, or sugarcoat it. If you go back, there will be alot of pain, alot of recovery. You'll probably never be 100% again and even if you get close you'll always have the scars of this trial on your body. But this isn't meant to scare you.

"As a final word, just let me say this; you grew into a fine young man, Bart. I'm sure you'll find the strength to make this decision for yourself."

"Do I need to decide right now?" Bart looked over at his grandfather and the rest of his extended family. "Can't I think this through for a while?"

"I'm sorry but if you wait too much longer we won't be able to put you back in the world of the living as your body will be too far gone to allow it. Please hurry or the decision will be made for you," Mona said sadly.

Bart frowned, but nodded at her logic.

"Then there is no decision to make. No matter what happens, if I'm being given the choice, then I want to be there to experience it. I want to see Lisa graduate with honors, Maggie too. I want mom to see me make something of myself and I want dad to look at me and be proud of what I've done with my life."

"In other words...?" Mona prompted.

"I want to live."

*******

Bart's eye's snapped open and he felt the gentle stir of an autumn breeze. He looked over and noticed it was not from an open window but a vent that appeared to be pumping air into the room. Before him lay a standard hospital room complete with medical machinery, uncomfortable chairs, a side table that appeared to rotate over his bed so he could put food or something on it and curtains on the right side of his bed blocking his view of the rest of the room. Arrayed near the windows were countless balloons, plants, cards and photos all lined up for him to view easily. Bart assumed this was a pet project done by some bored nurse as there were far too many for it to have happened accidentally.

He coughed lightly and felt the sharp stabbing pains shoot from his chest. He decided it would be best not to move just yet. He remembered talking to Lisa the night before and then having alot of difficulty breathing. Bart looked around and found what was offputting about this entire setup. There were no people. He strained his neck and looked around to see if he could spy someone, even a nurse. The helplessness of his situation crushed in on him when he found his arms and legs wouldn't move more than a few inches and even that came at an extreme tax on his energy.

Out of his field of view a door opened and the curtain billowed inwards to allow for the sudden change in air pressure. A nurse dressed in a standard stark white outfit came around the curtain and stood at the foot of his bed for a minute while she read his chart and adjusted some dials on the IV next to his bed. As she turned to leave she looked him in the face and jumped visibly when she saw his eyes open and watching her. She quickly regained her composure.

"My goodness, it looks like someone's finally woken up! I'll be right back, just let me get the doctor."

"...n...nurse..." Bart groaned but she was already gone. He'd just wanted to ask her where his family was but it didn't seem important enough at the moment to press the matter. This hurt like hell.

Several minutes later he heard multiple sets of feet approach his door and again the curtain billowed. Dr. Hibbert came in and looked him up and down before nodding with a smile and pulling up a chair.

"Son, you have no idea how lucky you were to pull through this. I'll spare you the gruesome details and just say that you might have alot of praying to do when you get out of here because a miracle is the only way I can describe someone coming ba- er... pulling through such a harrowing experience. Now I've already taken the liberty of calling your family to come visit you, but before we even consider allowing it I have to run a few tests and make sure you're strong enough to handle that kind of emotion this soon afterward."

Julius managed one of his trademark chuckles while Bart could only nod weakly and smile.

It was several hours before all the tests were done but with all the medications they were pumping into him, Bart was only aware of parts of it, like viewing a slideshow that took too long to switch pictures. By the time they returned him to his room and left him in peace Bart was not just weary, he was exhausted. He closed his eyes for what seemed like a second but when he opened them back up again his entire family was standing over him with expectant joy etched on each of their faces, or what he could see of them. Oddly, each of them were garbed in plain green hospital clothes and they each wore a white mask over their nose and mouth.

"Bart!" cried Lisa and Maggie, carefully giving him a hug before moving out of the way and allowing Homer and Marge to indulge themselves as well. Marge lingered over him, practically smothering him in affection.

"Mom!" he cried as loud as he could.

"Oh! I'm sorry did I squeeze too hard, Bart?"

"No... you're just... embarrassing me." he looked sheepishly down at the sheets.

"Stop coddling him, Marge. The boy is tougher than any bullet I ever met!" Homer chipped in.

"It's just as well, you gave us such a fright! I think you'll manage a little embarassment considering you died last night."

"Wait... wait...died?!" Bart started but was cut off by a sharp rap on the hospital room door. Dr. Hibbert quickly let himself in and moved to stand at the end of the bed.

"The prognosis is looking very positive, your blood tests show you're fighting off the infection admirably."

"Infection?" Bart didn't like the sound of that.

"Yes, we managed to get almost all the fragments of the bullet out of you but one little piece accidentally slipped by and it was causing you to bleed internally. Unfortunately the wound was in the wall of your lung and that made it vulnerable to a whole host of airborne pathogens. We've had to put you in one of our cleanrooms and you'll have to remain here until the risk decreases." Dr. Hibbert motioned to the rest of the family. "I'm afraid that means you'll all have to scrub down every time you want to come into this room."

At least that explained the strange hospital clothing, but Bart was getting antsy to find out how long it would be before he was back on his feet.

"Hey, Doc..."

"I can already guess your next question, Bart. And the answer is not too long, but not right away. With these sort of things it's difficult to say but you're probably looking at a week or longer, at least."

"But he'll be alright? There's no chance of this happening again?" Marge asked seriously.

"None whatsoever, we were unprepared for the infection he caught last night but now things are different and we were able to account for all the fragments of the bullet. Bart will be just fine, at least as long as your insurance holds out," he added with a chuckle. Marge gasped and he quickly added, "Kidding! I'm kidding of course! Doctor humor. Besides, its... not like your insurance is going to run out, is it Marge?"

She glanced around uncomfortably before shaking her head. Hibbert gave her a friendly smile.

"Well then, we have nothing to worry about. Bart will need to get some rest soon if he wants a speedy recovery so please don't push him too much." With that he turned to leave, but caught himself. "Oh, and allow me to offer my deepest apologies for the trouble you all had with the press last night. I've been meaning to have a frank discussion with the Reverend about exactly what he discusses with that wife of his from here out."

With that out of the way Hibbert chuckled again and left to complete his rounds.

Bart sighed and fell back into a comfortable position as everyone in the room turned to face him again.

"Bart, we were so worried for you! Don't ever leave us again, okay?" Lisa admonished him, grinning all the while. He gave her a smile in return.

"What, me die? Whatever made you think that could happen?" he said with as much bravado as he could muster. "Have you been staying up all night reading bad fanfiction again?"

**THE END**

* * *

A/N: Well, that's that. I hope you've all enjoyed the ride as I finally put this one to rest (in a manner of speaking). If you've made it this far, whats another couple minutes spent typing up a quick review to let me know what you thought?

Also, as far as the future holds I do now actually have a workable story lined up for the sequel to this and you'll be able to find details about it on my profile where you can all those interesting things about me you were always too preoccupied to read. (which means you'll be done in about a minute)

Thanks for reading!


	14. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

It had been a full month since the day his sister was kidnapped and at last Bart was well enough to be out of the hospital. The week he had been given was conservative at best, and recovery had been slower than everyone thought. At last, though, he was given a clean bill of health and sent home. Bart had had a lot of time to think about things while he was stuck in that hospital bed and now that he was free he intended to make good on the silent promise he made.

The evening after he got home and had dinner with his family for the first time since the incident Bart excused himself to his room and found his car keys hanging on the nail where he usually kept them. He smiled to himself at how his mother paid attention to little details like that and pocketed the keys. After putting on a sweatshirt he headed back downstairs and out to the driveway where his car waited. As he opened the driver side door to get in he heard the front door open and looked over to see Lisa heading his way.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked with a note of concern.

"I've just got something to do and I'd like to do it alone," Bart said quietly. He got into his car and started the engine.

Lisa looked like she was about to get in as well but he shook his head and she nodded her understanding. Despite having made up with her, Bart was still determined to close the door on this desolate chapter of his life by himself. He backed out of the driveway and drove down the street, watching Lisa shrink into the distance in the rear view mirror. Bart felt slightly guilty for excluding her from what he was about to do but he wasn't sure he would have the courage to say what needed to be said with anyone else around. Springfield wasn't a distinctly large town but it still took him about fifteen minutes to reach his destination. As he slowed to a stop outside the gates Bart knew he had to hurry, the sun was setting and soon the gates would be locked. He parked and got out, hoisting the collar of his sweatshirt higher up his neck to guard against the cooling autumn air.

The gate swung open easily leading to a narrow path laid out in flagstones and overgrowing with moss. However, the grounds were well cared for despite their obvious age and Bart had no trouble following the path deeper in. White marble headstones in all shapes and sizes littered the ground everywhere and if you had never been there before it would be easy to get lost amongst the rows. Bart knew exactly where he was headed though and in less than five minutes he could see his destination, a very large stone situated up on the top of a small hill towards the back of the cemetery.

Now that he was here Bart hesitated, suddenly unsure if he was going to be able to do it after all. His hesitation allowed him to take in more of his surroundings and his breath caught in his throat as he spotted another grave nearby. It looked fresh, the grass just barely starting to grow over it. Before he read the simple headstone he knew instinctively who it belonged to. In this part of the cemetery were buried all the people of any means, including almost all the entertainers. His heart hammered as he approached cautiously and his eyes confirmed what his brain already knew.

"Robert Underdunk Terwilliger" Bart read out loud, scarcely believing this man fit for any sort of burial. Here lay the man who shot him in cold blood, who had killed or warped everyone important to Bart in his life. "Why did you have to be here?"

He stood there for a long moment unable to tear his gaze away from the plot. For a while the urge consumed him to kick the headstone over, to tear down anything that could be used to remember such a horrible man.

"But I can't," Bart realized. "I want to erase you, to make it so that nobody knew you ever existed. But I can't. People would still remember, I would still remember. In the end it wouldn't make any difference and where you are you can't hurt anyone else ever again.

"So instead of forgetting, I'm going to remember you, Bob. Not as the ruthless murderer you turned out to be, but as the kind, gentle children's entertainer most of the world saw you for. Behind your greed and desire for revenge there was once a man who cared enough to try and teach us something. I cannot forgive you for what you have done to me and my family, but I will try to remember you at your best instead of your worst."

Having said his peace Bart found he was able to walk away and continue to the large headstone on the hill. Upon reaching it he had to gawk at it for a moment. No matter how many times you saw it there was no preparing yourself for the gigantic carved bust of Krusty the Clown smiling back at you. This was the very same headstone used back when Krusty had faked his death many years ago. How appropriate, now, that he already had a headstone picked out for when he was actually dead.

Getting over the odd appearance of the grave, Bart sat on the stone bench situated opposite it.

"Heya Krusty, long time no see," he mumbled. Bart stopped and listened to the sounds of the cemetery around him. Far away he could still hear the cars on the road outside the cemetery and the occasional rustle of a squirrel gathering food for the approaching winter. "I never thought it would take so long, I'm sorry I never came to visit but well… you know. Life gets in the way. It's not like you were going anywhere. I'm in high school now, can you believe it? And so is Lisa, if I'm not careful she'll graduate before I do."

Bart chuckled and continued.

"Anyway I told you the next time I'd be here was after I brought your killer to justice and well…"

He glanced back down the hill to Bob's grave.

"Here I am. We got him for what he did to you. Aren't you glad to hear that? I always knew Bob was responsible for murdering you and now he has paid the price. You can thank Maggie for that, though I don't think you two ever knew each other because she was so young."

Bart took a deep breath and winced at the pain from his chest. The jagged scar he now had there would remain for the rest of his life. A strong reminder of what could happen in the blink of an eye. "I have held up my promise, Bob has been dealt with and this entire ordeal is finally behind us all. And while I cannot forget, I think I can finally move on."

He stood up and walked over to the headstone, resting one hand on the corner of it.

"Thanks Krusty, for everything. You made a lot of kids happy in your life, and while your father may not have agreed with how you did it you still did a lot to make the world a better place and that's more than most people can hope for in their lives."

Bart wiped away a lone tear knowing that while it may not be the last one he ever shed it would be the last he shed over this.

Turning away, Bart quickly retreated from the cemetery, not aware in the slightest that his private words were perhaps not as private as he would have liked.

* * *

**A/N:** How very strange to be back to this story one last time after thinking I was done last year. I recently was contacted by another member named Junior Villalobos who expressed interest in translating this story to Spanish so it could be enjoyed by a wider audience. In doing so he voiced an idea which eventually became this and so I would like to give him credit for the inspiration that brought me here today. I do not know why an idea like this did not occur to me naturally but I would like to thank him for helping me to correct and finally put to rest this story.


End file.
